


Unbowed and Unbroken

by SorchaCahill



Series: Songs of Light and Dark [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Comrades in Arms, Crude Humor, Death, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, Sexual Content, Violence, War, more than occasional use of coarse language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 90,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorchaCahill/pseuds/SorchaCahill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War and death is all Marissa had known with very few moments of happiness. All she has are her friends and for them she would fight and would never give up. And then something completely unexpected happens and she learns that while life doesn’t always give you what you want, it sometimes does give you what you need even if you didn’t know you needed it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **EDIT 07/17/14: This story was formerly titled All That Lives Must Die but I decided that Unbowed and Unbroken suited it much better.
> 
> **EDIT 12/08/14: I've had to do a bit of retconning with the story seeing as it's taken a left turn when I wanted it to go right. No majors changes really, just some minor adjustments to the timeline that I had to fix and a couple of other things.

_9:40 Dragon_

 _Just north of the Vimmark Mountains..._

The first thing that came to mind when she woke up was that she should probably be dead. Maker, there was no probably, she should be dead. Maybe if she just kept her eyes closed it would all just float away. Just flow down the stream of memory until it was all forgotten. If only. That took a level of naivete that she had never possessed.

Resigned to the inevitable, Marissa opened her eyes. Parts and bits of her were numb, others felt cold, others yet burning. Regardless, pain threaded throughout her entire body. Pain and exhaustion, as it always was. No matter where she went, how much time had passed, pain and exhaustion always followed her. Always.

First the Howes and the Couslands, then the battle at Denerim and the assault on Amaranthine, then Kirkwall, and now this. The problem was she didn’t exactly know what _this_ was. No. That wasn't exactly true. She knew what this was. It was war. Again.

Three years ago a desperate mage had blown up the Chantry in Kirkwall. A year later the Chantry dissolved the College of Enchanters, leading to the Circles falling and the Mage-Templar war. What had begun in Kirkwall had spread throughout the Free Marches and beyond. Mages were rebelling everywhere while Templars tried to crush anything and everything in their path. And, as cliche as it was, everyone else was caught in between the two.

“Can you walk, sweet thing? Cause as pretty as it is, I’m not going to carrying your ass all the way to Nevarra.”

“Must you flirt when I’m bleeding? It’s annoying.”

“But I do so love being annoying.”

Marissa grimaced as she sat up, examining her arms and legs. Blood and bits of darkspawn covered her. They said the Blight was over but there was evidence to the contrary. She knew the Warden had sacrificed her life in defeating the Archdemon so why were there so many darkspawn? They should have returned to the Deep Roads, searching for the next Old God, but they were here on the surface and their numbers seemed to be increasing everyday and it scared the ever-loving shit out of her.

“We shouldn’t linger here. There might be more.”

“Don’t be so serious, Fenris. You were having fun admit it.” Isabela shot the elf a sly grin. Marissa watched as Fenris struggled and then failed to keep his face neutral. For some odd reason, Isabela was pretty much the only one who could bring out the lighter side in him. Most of the time he just brooded but he lit up when Isabela was around and it had nothing to do with his lyrium tattoos. It was nice just to see some kind of happiness in this world and there was too little of it as of late. They had told her a bit of what had happened in Kirkwall, how the Champion had tried to make a difference, but in the end, Kirkwall had fallen. The Templars ruled there now and Marissa pitied any mage that was unfortunate to within ten leagues of there.

Marissa had never met the Champion but one couldn’t live in Kirkwall without knowing about him. She had seen him a couple of times, sometimes at the market, sometimes in The Hanged Man. Stories about him were all over, she could barely walk down the street without hearing one story or another about him, and even if half of them were true, she didn’t envy the poor son of a bitch. Isabela and Fenris didn’t talk about him much, they always got this sad look in their eyes when the Hawke was mentioned, but if you got Fenris drunk enough he’d let an occasional story slip through.

“Alright children. Unless you want to spend the night camped out in the mud, I suggest we get our asses moving. There’s a village not too far from here and an inn run by a couple of savvy dwarfs who were quite smart in installing nice big tubs in the rooms. I wouldn't mind some time in a nice big tub.” Isabela turned to Marissa and sniffed. “You could use some time as well.”

“You don’t smell so hot yourself there, sweetheart, but can we afford such a place? Rooms like that are bound to be expensive.”

“Oh, they are, but the dwarf owes me one. Several actually, so I think we’ll be fine.” Isabela’s grin was sharp with memory and promised a good tale. “I can probably wrangle two rooms out of them, unless you want to share that is.”

“Uh, no. I’m sure Fenris would like some alone time with you.”

“Fenris _always_ wants some alone time with me, sweet thing.”

“Must you talk about me when I’m standing right in front of you?”

“In front of you, behind you, I’ll gossip about you from all sorts of ways, sweetie.”

A corner of Marissa’s mouth turned up as the tips of Fenris’s ears turned pink. She would never tell him, but she thought it was adorable that Isabela could make this fierce warrior blush.

“I’ll, ah, take that second room if you can get them for free like you said.”

“Oh, so practical this one. Breaks my heart.”

Marissa laughed as she took a cloth out of her pack and cleaned the darkspawn blood off her blades. She’d have to sharpen them when they got to the inn; make some new arrows too, _if_ she could find the materials. Swallowing the sudden gorge in her throat, Marissa finished wiping down her blades. After all these years the smell of the darkspawn blood still made her want to vomit. Only natural she supposed, but one would think a person would get used to it eventually.

“How does a pirate know of villages and inns this far inland anyway? Aren't pirates all about big boats and hidden islands and sunken treasure?”

“Not all treasure can be found on far off mysterious islands, my dear. You can find valuable trinkets just about anywhere.”

“Yeah, I bet. So which way is this inn?”

-XXX-

The inn’s tubs were as large as advertised and, thanks to dwarven ingenuity and plumbing and the proper application of a fire rune, was filled with warm water. She had to make do with the rough soap she carried with her but at least she was clean.

Marissa stepped out of the tub, wrapping herself in a bath sheet as she watched the water swirl away and the fire rune go cool. It was funny how so many feared magic but didn’t complain much when they benefited from it. Dwarfs were a practical people though; throwing away something useful, and potentially profitable, just because it might blow up was sacrilege. Hell, there were some dwarfs that _counted_ on their merchandise blowing up.

Firelight filled the room as she sat on a stool sharpening her daggers. The Silverite glinted sharply at her. They were nothing like the first pair of daggers she had owned. Those, while they had certainly served their purpose and got her through many a fight, had nothing on these sweethearts. All of her other knives and blades were laid out before her, each waiting their turn. Isabela had been highly amused the first time she had found out about her pointy arsenal, asking if it was safe to even shake hands with her.

Never hurts to be prepared, she had told Isabela. You never knew when something bad was about to happen.

A log shifted in the fire, sending firefly-like sparks into the air. Startled, Marissa’s hand slipped on the stone, the tip of her dagger slicing down the side of her thumb.

“Maker’s balls.” Marissa dropped the stone and her dagger and snatched up the cloth sitting next to her to staunch the bleeding. Stupid of her to be careless, letting herself get distracted like that. People died when a person got careless.

Staring at the blood soaking through the cloth Marissa remembered the first time she had seen blood come out of a person. It had been a simpler time then, not any less violent, but that violence hadn’t invaded her world yet. Death she had known, but not war, not yet.

She had been only fourteen when Howe had attacked Highever. Up until then she had been their ward, taking lessons alongside their son Fergus, sparring with Ser Gilmore, and spending her fair share of time in the kitchens with Nan cutting onions. Her parents had died when she was almost two-years-old, taken by a plague that had swept through the castle and the surrounding area. The Couslands were kind and good people and had made a place for her. She never knew why they had taken her in but she had been lucky and she never forgot it.

Why the plague had affected mainly adults was a mystery. Most illnesses struck the very old and the very young, but this one had struck seemingly healthy people in the prime of their lives. Looking back, Marissa couldn’t help but wonder if it was connected to the Blight in some way. It had put a serious dent in the Cousland forces, and when Fergus Cousland had taken a majority of those remaining forces to heed King Cailan’s call to battle, the castle had been left woefully undermanned.

Marissa had been in the library huddled behind one of the bookcases reading and munching on an apple she had nicked from the kitchen when the bells had sounded. She thought perhaps one of the guards was announcing the arrival of Arl Howe’s forces from Amaranthine but the ringing quickly became more frantic. A door slammed open and she heard angry and frightened voices. Despite her growing fear, she crept out from behind the bookcase just in time to see a soldier stab Aldous through the throat. Blood spurted from the old man’s mouth as he sank to the floor. The soldier kicked Aldous’s body back, laughing as he watched the old scholar choke on his own blood.

A gasp escaped past Marissa’s throat and she clapped her hands over her mouth, praying that the soldier hadn’t heard her. She peered through the bookcases, watching him as he surveyed the room, blood dripping from his sword. Her breath hitched in her throat as she tried very hard to become invisible, to become silent as a shadow. The soldier stepped forward, leading with his blade.

He was going to find her. She remembered that visceral feeling of fear, just a scared little girl who wanted nothing more than for it all to stop, for things to go back to the way there were before. Such were the thoughts of a child.

“I can hear you breathing back there. Come on out. Won’t hurt you.”

“ _Liar_ ,” she thought. “ _You’re nothing but a liar_.”

Marissa knew she had to run, had to get out, but to do that she had to get around a heavily armed and armored soldier. All she had was a paring knife.

His chainmail clinked as he came closer, his boots sounding like thunderclaps again the stone floor. Marissa watched as his shadow grew larger on the floor until he was there, standing over her.

“Well, ain't you just a runt of a thing? Hardly worth killing you, but orders is orders.”

Marissa stood up at this point, the paring knife clutched in her hand. She remembered thinking that the soldier was a giant, but fear always made things bigger than they were. In reality he had probably been only a few inches taller than her but the mind is a tricky thing.

“Go ahead, kill me, but you will burn for this. There are few more vile than betrayers in the Maker’s eyes.” The words rang false to Marissa’s ears, but she knew the power of words and how to use them against others. Some may say they don’t believe in a thing, but when it is said in the right way to them, some small kernel of belief flared. Aldous had taught her that. She just hoped that it worked in this instance. Perhaps that cast a black mark on her soul but at the moment she didn’t care.

“Maybe so, you little bitch, but you’ll be dead and rotting ‘fore that ever happens.” The soldier swung his sword at her, using a backhanded swing that Marissa knew to be less powerful than a forward swing. She ducked as the blade sliced the air above her and wedged itself into the bookcase. He would have been better off thrusting forward in such a confined space but Marissa wasn't going to question his inability to mind his surroundings.

Diving between his legs, Marissa scrambled around and jumped on his back, stabbing her little knife into his neck. The blade was only a few inches long but it was long enough to pierce his jugular and tear flesh as she twisted it in his neck. The soldier’s blood sprayed out, splattering her face as he clawed at her hands and spun around to try to get her off, but Marissa just clung tighter, twisting the blade around and around.

Looking back Marissa knew that she had been incredibly lucky to get out of that library alive. If the soldier had been just a bit quicker, if she hadn’t nicked the apple and the knife from the kitchen she would have been one more corpse to be burned after Arl Howe’s siege of Highever.

She remembered climbing off the soldier when he finally fell, blood dripping down the knife as she finally realized what she had done. Horror had filled her but not regret. She was horrified at how easy it had been to kill a person but she wasn't sorry that she had.

Her memory after that was fuzzy. Marissa didn’t remember how she had ended up in the kitchen; it had been instinct to run there. After the library, the kitchen was a safe place and it was only natural that she would run to where she thought she would be safe. It had only taken her a moment to realize that nowhere was safe.

Nan lay dead on the floor, as well as the rest of the kitchen workers. Slumped against one of the cabinets was the Teryn. He had one hand pressed to his side, blood seeping through his fingers. His face was ashen as he looked up at her.

“It’s okay child, it will be okay.”

Marissa desperately wanted to believe him but if this night had taught her anything it was that nowhere, no one was safe.

“It’s okay,” the Teryn repeated, his face now grey. “There’s an exit, a secret passage in the pantry, behind the shelves. Take it, run. Run far. Run fast.”

Marissa paused, caught between her desire to flee and the loyalty she felt toward the Cousland family. The Teryn noticed her hesitation and some of the fierceness came back into his voice.

“Do as I say, child. Do it now. Find someplace safe. Go.”

Marissa ran then, quickly finding the latch that opened the secret passageway that led out of the castle. The tunnel had been dark and she had no torch to light her way. The dark surrounded her, its fingers sinking in. A soft whimper tried to escape past her lips, but Marissa forced it down. She had to be strong, had to swallow her fear in order to move forward.

It was still night when she had emerged from the tunnel. A light rain had started sometime while she had been escaping through the tunnel but it wasn't enough to wash away the blood and soot that covered her body. The tunnel had let out in a small copse of trees, the doorway cleverly hidden in the roots. She was maybe a mile or so away from the castle but she could still smell the smoke rising from the ruins. The fires glowed red against the sky and she watched in horror as one of the towers fell.

Everyone that she knew had been in Highever and now they were all dead and dying. She was alone.

Marissa snapped herself out of the memory. She must be more tired than she had thought for those memories to come to the surface. Most of the time they stayed locked away in a corner of her mind but they still managed to sneak out every once in awhile. The memories had served their purpose for a while. They had given her motivation to continue, to find some way of living, surviving. Standing there on that hill she had made a vow to herself that she would someday track down Arl Howe and make him pay for what he had done.

And she had been very close to achieving that goal, but her anger and inexperience had almost killed her instead. The Warden had saved her, had killed Howe and freed her from that dungeon. When Lessa Mahariel had discovered why she was there she had scolded Marissa for being so reckless but had also told her that she admired her bravery. In retrospect Marissa knew she had been very lucky. What chance did a fifteen-year-old girl have against a man like Arl Howe? As it was The Warden and her companions were badly injured.

At least she got to spit on his body.

Her hand had finally stopped actively bleeding. Marissa pulled out a clean bandage and wrapped it up. She wasn't about to waste an elfroot potion on the cut. It was a stupid waste of resources to do so. Her frugal nature annoyed Isabela to no end but she had spent too much time alone and with very little coppers on hand to break those habits now.

She was a child of The Blight after all and it was a hard earned lesson to hoard her resources until they were absolutely needed.

A sudden urge for drink hit her. She didn’t indulge in drink too often, but after falling into her memories of that last night in Highever, a couple tankards of ale seemed appropriate. With most of her knives back in their designated spots, Marissa ran her hands through her short dark hair and made for the door. Isabela had called it a crime that she wore it so short, but ever practical, she had told the pirate that long hair was a disadvantage when in a fight and it just got in the way. Besides, she didn't have the patience to deal with it.

The tavern was filled with raucous noise and cheers of celebration. As she moved through the room she saw a soldier gleefully collecting silvers from his dour-faced companions, his winning hand spread out before him triumphantly. At another table a group was singing in that special off-key drunken tone a song about the Black Fox. Serving girls weaved through the tables carrying mugs of ale and the occasional trencher while dodging the overly grabby hands of some of the patrons.

Her eye caught a glint of gold and blue and Fenris’s spiky armor in a back corner of the room and she made her way over to them. A nearly empty bottle of indeterminate vintage sat between Isabela and Fenris as they played a game of Diamondback with each other.

“I would have thought you would be fleecing the locals here instead of sitting back in a corner.”

“Call it research darling. Why put all the effort into playing witless fools when you can watch?”

“Because it’s more fun that way?” Marissa sat and snatched up Isabela’s mug and drained the last of the wine. It tasted strongly of oak and elderberries if she wasn't mistaken. It was good but not what she wanted. Sometimes a girl just wanted a good mug of ale.

Isabela nodded her head, her eyes lighting up. “Well, there is that but let’s just say that keeping a low profile this close--what did you do to your hand?”

Marissa cursed as she pulled her hand back quickly but not quickly enough as Isabela grabbed her wrist and held it steady.

“My hand slipped while I was sharpening my blades.” Marissa tried to shrug out of Isabela’s grip but the pirate stubbornly hung on and peeled back the bandage.

“Why didn’t you use some elfroot on this?” she demanded.

“It’s only a scratch. I’ll survive.”

“Idiot,” Isabela muttered as she rummaged in her pouch and removed a small wax-sealed jar. She cracked the seal and smeared the poultice over the wound before replacing the bandage. Marissa tugged her hand back and refused to acknowledge that the poultice had numbed the dull pain she had been ignoring.

“I swear, it’s almost as if you _want_ to die,” Isabela scolded as she picked up her mug only to find it empty. Her scowl deepened even as Fenris poured the rest of the wine into it and signaled a serving girl for another bottle and an additional mug.

“I don’t need you to mother me, Isabela.”

“Obviously you do, sweetling. Dying in battle is one thing, but I refuse to let you die from something as preventable as blood poisoning, not when we have the supplies. What were you thinking?”

Marissa could only manage a shrug as she took the mug from the serving girl and filled it to near brimming. Maybe she had been foolish to not treat the wound properly but old habits were old habits. She had suffered worse and survived with less. Perhaps she was balancing a narrow line between stupidity and arrogance and judging from Isabela’s glare she clearly thought that Marissa was falling on the side of stupidity.

Rather than answer her directly, Marissa asked, “Don’t you ever get tired of it all?”

“Tired of what?” Isabela asked carefully, setting her mug down even more carefully.

“Everything. The hate, the violence, the death. All of it. I've been surrounded by it for most of my life. Every faction of Thedas is fighting against each other and sometimes within themselves. You can’t go anywhere without seeing death.” Marissa picked at the wooden table, tracing lines in the wood. “I’m just so tired.”

“We've all seen too much death and destruction Marissa, but that can’t stop us from living. Hawke taught me that.” Marissa looked up, surprised to hear Fenris speak. If anything, Fenris could usually be depended upon to be morose, broody, and quiet. For him to speak optimistically was surreal. She watched as he lay a hand on Isabela’s shoulder, his thumb smoothing over her skin. It was such a simple gesture but it spoke volumes.

“Maybe, but what kind of world is this? Children aren't children anymore. Who would choose to bring life into this madness? And what are we teaching them but hate and fear and death?” Marissa heard her voice raise and at the curious glances from the other patrons she forced herself to reign it in. “Something is coming. Can’t you feel it? Kirkwall was just the start. You heard what happened at the White Spire in Val Royeaux.”

“Everybody heard. It’s hard not to what with Templars roving through Orlais, Nevarra, and the Free Marches like packs of wild dogs and no one to reign them in.” Isabela sat back in her chair, studying the contents of her mug. “Dammit, why did Hawke have to make me be all respectable and whatnot. Life was so much simpler when I really didn’t care.”

“Hawke helped us both to be better people. All of us actually. Except for that abomination.”

“Don’t start Fenris.”

“I’m only stating a truth, Isabela. That mage caused Hawke nothing but grief and heartbreak,” Fenris growled as he grabbed the bottle and drank straight from it. Marissa raised an eyebrow at that, looking to Isabela. The pirate only shook her head. “Hawke wanted to see the good in everyone, even when he knew it didn’t exist. And look where it got him. Broken and alone. Probably dead.”

“We don’t know that, Fenris.” Isabela laid a hand on his arm, her other hand cupping his cheek. Marissa watched as his lyrium tattoos briefly flash before he regained control. She cast a worried glance across the tavern, looking for anyone who had noticed. Fortunately the tavern’s patrons appeared to be too immersed in their pursuits to notice a glowing elf.

Fenris bowed his head against Isabela’s, his eyes briefly closing as he let out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just that Hawke deserved better than what he got. He gave everything to Kirkwall and it took it all.”

“I don’t think that even Andraste herself could have saved Kirkwall, Fenris,” Marissa told him. “That city is cursed. People would be better off if they just let it burn to the ground and salt the earth, but I think we all know that they won’t. They’re too stupid or too stubborn to simply walk away. Some people can’t accept that there are some things that can’t be saved, that there are some things that aren't worth saving.” Marissa scowled into her drink and she found herself wishing for something stronger.

“I’m sorry. I’m not very good company. I shouldn’t have come down.”

“You sit that pretty ass back down,” Isabela ordered sharply. “I’m not going to let you walk away from us like that. We’re a team and we’re only going to stay that way if we work together.” Marissa slumped back down in her chair, dangerously close to pouting. She was too old to pout but that didn’t stop the urge.

“Andraste’s tits, it’s like dealing with children with you two. Now I get why he’s all morose and broody, he’s like that most of the time.” Isabela ignored Fenris’s yelp of protest as she continued. “But I don’t get why you are.”

“It’s hard to explain. I've mostly been on my own since Howe attacked Highever and all I've known since then is conflict. Maybe I’m just tired and feeling sorry for myself. I don’t know.”

“Well, listen here, young one. You are not alone and--balls. What in the Void are you doing here?”

Marissa tensed as she felt a shadow fall over her and she grabbed for one of her knives. Isabela held her back, looking at the person looming above her.

“Settle down there, sweetling. The fuck you want, Choir Boy? Thought we got rid of you in Kirkwall.”

“And it is lovely to see you again as well, Isabela. Fenris.” The shadow moved to the side and finally Marissa got a good look at man. The accent put him as someone from Starkhaven but there was only one person that Isabela referred to as Choir Boy. “I do not believe we have met.”

Marissa just stared at him. He was more, and less, than what she had been told. And possibly one of the most gorgeous men she had ever seen, which was probably why she let her mouth speak before her brain. “Aren't you the one who wears Andraste’s face on your crotch.” Marissa blatantly looked him up and down. “What happened? Did you lose her?”

Isabela choked on her wine. Even Fenris couldn't help the grin that plastered his face that he tried to hide. Sebastian Vael, however, looked less than amused.

“Charming. You’re Fereldan, then?”

“And what of it? Believe it or not Ferelden is more than dogs and mud. We may have sprung from barbarians and our people a bit wild, but at least we don't practice slavery or try to regulate how people walk, talk, and eat. Power is not the exclusive right of the nobility. They are only as strong as their freeholders support.” Her retort came out much more heated than she had intended but again, her mouth speaking before her brain could stop it. One would think that after spending nearly a decade in Kirkwall she would have developed a thicker skin when it came to others looking down their noses at her nationality, and most of the time she overlooked it. Now was not one of those times it seemed.

“I meant no offense, my lady. I simply recognized your accent.”

“I’m no one’s lady,” Marissa grumbled.

“But you speak as if--.”

“Cut to the chase, Choir Boy. Why are you here? It can’t have been an accident,” Isabela interrupted, sending a sharp look at Marissa.

“You do realize that I am no longer with the Chantry, Isabela, yes?”

“So your attire, or rather, the lack of shiny, white armor would seem to say, but that doesn't answer my question. Why are you here?”

“I can’t find Varric.”

“What do you _mean_ you can’t find Varric? He stayed behind in Kirkwall, more fool he.”

“He’s not there. Not that I can find anyway. I needed to speak with him regarding some, finances, but he wasn't in his rooms at The Hanged Man. The bartender told me that one night Varric didn’t return from Hightown. But-.”

“But what? Spit it out Vael.” Marissa was fascinated by this version of Isabela. It didn’t come out often, but when those whiskey-gold eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips together, the object of her ire had better be able to run fast. Interestingly, Sebastian Vael didn’t seemed phased by it. Either he didn’t care or was too stupid to notice.

Marissa heard him whisper something softly as he sat down, something that sounded like a part of the Chant, but the tavern was too loud for her to catch it.

“I asked around. Some of the people in Lowtown claim to have seen him being taken away by the Seeker Order.”

“Bullshit. What would the Seekers want with Varric?”

“Can you not think of a reason why? Everyone in Kirkwall knew that he knew Hawke. I assume that the Seekers believe that he knows where Hawke is.”

“No one knows where Hawke is,” Isabela snapped.

“That will not stop them from asking. If these Seekers are as intent on their quarry as Templars are...” Fenris didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. Everyone at that table knew the lengths to which the Templar Order would go to in hunting down an apostate.

“The Seekers are the ones The Divine sends in when the Templars fail. They move in the shadows and Templars both fear and loathe them. If the Seekers truly have Varric... well, I pray to the Maker that his silver tongue does not fail him.”

“Varric has survived worse. Why have you come to us? Wait, better question. How did you find us? We’re not exactly on the Imperial Highway out here.”

“And the two of you aren't as inconspicuous as you might think, Isabela. People are going to notice a barely clad Rivaini and an elf with lyrium tattoos and a sword nearly as tall as he his. You stand out. No one made mention of a third companion though.” Sebastian almost looked apologetic at that. Marissa couldn’t help but snort.

“I work very hard at not being noticed. It’s what has kept me alive for so long. Thanks though.”

Sebastian looked as if he wanted to respond to that but wasn't exactly sure how. Marissa could feel a laugh bubbling up in her and managed, barely, to suppress it. The worried looks on Isabela and Fenris’s faces were more than enough to sober her up.

“So, I take it we’re heading back to Kirkwall then? Great. That’s just brilliant, isn't it? Fuck. I’d hoped that I’d never have to see that blighted city ever again.” Marissa grabbed the bottle from Fenris and tipped it back, draining a good portion of it and wishing it was Dwarven Fire Ale. She slid the bottle across the table to Isabela who took her own healthy swig.

“Alright then. Off we go to rescue the damsel in distress. I’m sure that Varric never thought that he’d ever be the one in distress. Now that’s a story I like to hear; Varric not so much I’m thinking though.” Isabela passed the bottle on to Fenris before continuing. “Who am I kidding. That sly bastard will probably be strolling out of wherever they have him just as we get there.”

Marissa watched as the tension released from Sebastian’s shoulders. He actually seemed taller now that he didn’t have the weight and worry of his mission to recruit Isabela and Fenris pressing on him.

“So you’ll come then? I wasn't sure you would. I mean, if the request came from me that is. I know that we did not part on good terms.”

“You threatened to bring an army of Starkhaven soldiers down on Hawke’s head if he didn’t execute Anders. So yeah, no, we didn’t part on good terms, Choir Boy. But Varric is a friend to both of us and I’ll be damned to the Void before I let some secret Chantry army have him.” Isabela cocked her head at Marissa; her eyes questioning.

“You’re suggesting going up against a secret branch of the Chantry and you accuse _me_ of trying to get myself killed?” Marissa couldn’t help but laugh. She had come downstairs in such a foul and despairing mood but now she was being offered a chance to help save someone and that felt good. “The Void take it, I’m in. Besides, I may not know Varric, but you do and anyone who can beat you in Wicked Grace is a person worth saving. Go ahead and laugh, but today we say no to Death.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great big thanks to garafthel (Sister_Wolf) or being my most excellent beta on this.


	2. Chapter 2

“Today we say no to Death? Oh sweet thing, do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?”

“Oh, of course I do but weren't you just scolding me for acting like a child and accusing me of trying to find ways to accidentally kill myself on purpose?”

“One could argue Marissa, that taking on the Seekers is a form of suicide.”

“Oh shut up Fenris. Both of you listen. Yes, I’m tired of all the pain and suffering, all the death, but that doesn't mean that I want to just let it happen. I _can’t_ let it happen. Like I said, I've never met Varric, but he’s your friend, and that’s good enough for me.” Marissa crossed her arms and glared at her companions. Sebastian she ignored, pretending he was not a part of this equation even though he was responsible for bringing it to their attention. Like Varric, she had never met him before tonight, but she had heard enough stories about him from Isabela to be wary enough of him. Fenris seemed to like and trust him but Fenris had a unique way of looking at the world. She could feel Sebastian’s eyes on her though, as if he was measuring her.

“Fine then, we’ll start out early in the morning. It’s too dangerous to travel at night anymore, especially over the mountains. I took the liberty of getting two more horses. It will be faster that way. We can take the Planasene Pass and follow the river all the way to Kirkwall.” Sebastian turned to Marissa, an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry my lady, had I known you were here I would have obtained another.”

“Horses? Uh huh. No way. Nope, nope, nope. I’ll walk thank you very much.” Marissa was too horrified at the concept of riding a horse to correct him about calling her my lady. Horses confounded her. They were dangerous at both ends and tricky in the middle. She’d rather walk until her feet bled before getting on one of those beasts.

“Walk? Time is short. Horses will get us there faster.” Marissa saw the puzzled frown mar Sebastian’s face and barely managed to not roll her eyes.

“Fereldan, remember Choir Boy? They don’t really do horses down there. A remnant of the Orlesian occupation I’m sure.” Isabela cocked her head at Marissa. “Come now sweet thing, you know it’s only logical.”

“Now’s not a time for you to get all logical Isabela. I’m not getting on a horse.”

“You wouldn't be riding it by yourself, my lady, you would be riding with one of us.”

“I’m not your lady, so stop calling me that.” Marissa scrubbed her hands through her already scruffy hair, causing it to stick up in several different directions at once. “Fine. I’ll ride the stupid horse but don’t expect me to be happy about it. I have packing to do.”

Marissa turned on her heel and marched up the stairs. Isabela rolled her eyes before turning back to the two men. “We have two rooms for the night. Sorry my love, but we will have to postpone our planned fun and games for tonight as I doubt our friend will be happy sharing her room with you Choir Boy.”

“You do know that is not my name, yes?”

“Of course I do. But Choir Boy is so much more appropriate don’t you think?” Isabela left before Sebastian could respond to that, leaving him with his mouth open like a slack-jawed idiot.

“Come my friend, we might as well finish this bottle before turning in. You can tell me what you’ve been doing since we last saw each other.”

Sebastian looked conflicted as he pulled his gaze from the stairs the led to the upper floors. Fenris regarded his friend carefully. There were more lines on his face since he last saw him and he looked tired, more so than he had ever seen him in all the time they had been in Kirkwall together.

“It has not been a good year, Fenris. Starkhaven is lost to me.”

Fenris let that sink in for a moment. He remembered Sebastian’s indecision of whether to commit himself fully to the Chantry or to take back Starkhaven from the traitor who had taken it. It had taken Hawke nearly ten years of badgering to edge Sebastian closer to his responsibilities as the last Prince of Starkhaven but to look at the man now was to see a man who was lost.

“Tell me.”

It was always easier for Fenris to listen rather than speak; probably a remnant from his years as Danarius’s slave. He poured them each a mug of wine and waited. Sebastian absentmindedly picked up the mug and drank like a man who was only half aware of what he was doing.

“I tried Fenris, I really tried, but the nobles, none of them would back me. They either remembered me as the wild child that disgraced my family name or as a man who spent the subsequent years hiding away in the Chantry. And now, with everything that’s happening, they are more concerned about their own lands. I cannot blame them for that.”

“But it still hurts you.”

“Yes, it does. Hawke may have killed the men who actually did the killing, but my family’s deaths still weigh on me. Lady Harriman’s betrayal and that blighted Desire Demon who pushed her towards it, it remains with me every day and I can’t help but wonder if I had listened to Hawke sooner that Starkhaven wouldn't still be under the rule of a tyrant.”

“You couldn’t have known, my friend. No one can tell the future.”

“Perhaps no, but if one listens carefully enough, they can see the signs of what could happen. I was so blind back then, so conflicted, and look at the price I’m paying. The price that Starkhaven is paying.”

Fenris sipped at his wine, letting it flow through him. There was a time not so long ago that he spent more time drunk than not. He had cleaned out Danarius’s wine cellar with astonishing speed and it had taken Hawke to knock some sense into him, to show him that even though Danarius may not hold a chain around him, that he was still letting the magister pull his strings. Because he remembered how it had felt to be manipulated like that, Fenris was able to recognize when others were in the same trap.

“I’m going to say something here my friend and I say it with all the respect that I can have toward your faith even though I do not share it. I respected Grand Cleric Elthina, but in my opinion she manipulated you into the position you found yourself in for so many years. She used your oath against you.”

“Grand Cleric Elthina was a good woman,” Sebastian said carefully, his blue eyes hardening ever so slightly.

“Yes, she was. And she gave me many a kindness when others wouldn't look twice at an elf, especially one as tainted by magic as I am, but her kindness did not extend to all of Kirkwall. She refused to get involved in the Qunari matter, she refused to mediate between Orsino and Knight-Commander Meredith and look what happened.”

“The Chantry must stand apart from the politics of the secular world.”

“How many refuges did you see coming to service Sebastian?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I think you do. Do you remember Darktown? The Undercity? Do you remember how many refuges rotted down there?”

“The Grand Cleric did what she could.”

Fenris watched his friend’s face harden further. He knew he was on dangerous ground here and knew that he was probably the last person to try to pull the scales from Sebastian’s eyes, but if they were to go up against the Seekers, an arm of the Chantry, he had to be sure of Sebastian’s resolve.

“Did she?” Fenris asked softly. “I do not mean to diminish her in your eyes but there was sickness and death and suffering in Darktown and I did not see the Chantry’s charity there.”

“The Chantry’s doors are always open to all.”

“Where was the Chantry located Sebastian?”

“In Hightown, but I fail to see--.”

Fenris saw the second the knowledge hit his friend and saw the misery that fell on his shoulders. He was sorry for it but it was necessary.

“Yes. Refugees were not welcome in Hightown. Elves such as myself were barely tolerated. Marissa wasn't wrong when she said that Kirkwall was a cursed place. Hawke did what he could, he took down one threat after another but there was always another to face. He did more good for the refugees in Darktown than the Chantry ever did.”

Sebastian frowned at that as he stared into his mug of wine. Was Fenris right? It was true that he hadn’t seen many refugees coming for service. There were always a few to be sure, but he also remembered the population of Darktown. So many people living in squalor and most not by choice.

“That is, it is something to consider.”

“I am sorry, Sebastian, but if we are to do this thing, I need to know that you are committed to it. I won’t let Isabela and Marissa come to harm because you cannot decide which side you should be on.”

“I would never--.” Sebastian stopped mid sentence as he remembered that he had done such a thing. For nearly ten years he had sat on the fence as to whether or not to take back Starkhaven and now he was reaping the consequences of that indecision.

“I am on your side, Fenris. I still believe in the Chantry and what it stands for but you are right when you say that it has become something else these past years, that many have taken the Maker’s word and twisted it so that it serves their own purposes. They've lost all control over the Templars and I do not know what these Seekers will do to Thedas in their search for truth.”

Silence fell between them but not an uneasy one. Conversation or lack thereof had always been an easy thing between them.

“So,” Sebastian finally said. “Isabela huh?”

Fenris smiled, a light showing in his eyes. “I suppose it does seem surprising but she is so much more than what one sees on the surface. She tries to hide it with her brash talk but she has a good heart and is fiercely protective of her friends. We are, well, I think we are well suited. She makes me smile, and that says a lot I think.”

“That it is, my friend, that it is,” Sebastian paused. “What about the girl? This Marissa? How does she factor in?”

“She’s too young for you Sebastian.”

“I beg your pardon?” The astonishment that filled Sebastian’s face made Fenris laugh out loud, as did the blush that crawled up the royal archer’s face.

“I am not blind, Sebastian. I saw how you looked at her even if she didn’t, and you can bet that Isabela saw it too. If you thought that Isabela was protective of the malef--Merrill, well, multiply that by all the rats in Darktown and you might have an idea.”

“I don’t understand. She seems more than capable of taking care of herself.”

“Yes, that she is, but she has not had an easy life.”

“Tell me.”

Fenris hesitated, mulling the decision over in his mind before speaking. “Marissa’s story is hers to tell. I will not take that from her.”

And with those two simple sentences Sebastian learned much about Marissa. Reading between the lines it wasn't hard to see that she had suffered great loss but she also inspired great loyalty from her friends. He remembered another person who was like that and he had paid a great price for it.

“Well then. I suppose we should retire. We’ll need to get an early start tomorrow. I only pray to the Maker that we are doing the right thing.”

“Which is the bigger sin Sebastian? Letting a friend suffer needlessly or stand by and wish for the best?”

“You are right, of course. The Maker presents challenges to us all and we learn from each trial. I am afraid that this will be the biggest challenge any of us have ever seen.”

-XXX-

Dawn came as it always did, the sun peeking over the horizon, its light stretching across the land and bringing a new day with it. Marissa cracked open an eye and then quickly shut it. When would she learn not to drink wine and just stick with ale and beer? She hadn’t even had that much, two mugs maximum.

“Come on, get your lazy ass out of bed, I know you’re awake over there. No amount of stalling on your part is going to prevent you from getting on a horse today.”

Marissa shoved her head further under her pillow. Horses. Why did it have to be horses? She had two perfectly good feet and she liked to use them. The covers were suddenly ripped off her, letting the cool morning air snake up her body.

“Son of a bitch! Isabela!”

“I said get up. Dammit, we should have left last night. I don’t care how many bandits and darkspawn are roaming the wilds.” Isabela turned away from the bed and started shoving her things into her pack before arming herself, cursing under her breath the whole time. “I should have never left him alone in Kirkwall. But no, he said, my place is here. Someone has to keep the money flowing and the spies spying, he said. Idiot.”

Marissa threw off the rest of the covers and just managed to not trip over them as she got out of bed. She had never seen Isabela like this. The woman was filled with a nervous frenetic energy that was unnatural on her. Walking over to the basin, Marissa splashed cold water on her face, washing away the sleep from her eyes and hopefully cooling the ache in her head. She had just turned around when a bundle of clothes hit her in the face.

“Get dressed. I want to be on the road within a half hour.”

“Isabela, we’ll get there in time.”

The pirate queen turned toward her, sheathing the last of her daggers before wrapping her blue headwrap over her hair. Her whiskey eyes narrowed as she looked at Marissa, making her feel somewhat uncomfortable. Yes, this was definitely a side of Isabela she had never seen before.

“Just get dressed and make sure your have all your knives. We’re going to need them.” She was out the door before Marissa could form a response. Hopefully Fenris would know how to deal with her because Marissa sure as hell didn’t.

Marissa tried to dress as quickly as she could but she did have a great deal of knives and it took time to put them in their respective slots. She had bought her armor from a dwarf merchant in Denerim but had made several modifications and alterations since then; making sure that it was both sturdy and yet flexible enough to allow her the movement she needed when fighting. Her bow and quiver lay against the wall. She hadn’t had enough time to fletch anymore arrows so unless they had time to go to a weapons shop, she would have to make do with what she had.

The main tavern was nearly empty when she arrived downstairs. A few patrons sat at the tables, scraping up whatever porridge the tavern provided. Her stomach growled at the smell but she had a feeling that they wouldn't be stopping for breakfast.

“Your friends are outside, Messere, in the stables.”

Marissa nodded sharply to the barmaid as she made toward the door. She hated it when people addressed as her as if she was of greater status. It made her feel like an impostor whenever she was addressed as such but her upbringing in Highever seemed to give people the impression that she was highborn when she was no such thing. Just because the Couslands had taken her in and she had received teaching from Aldous and had snuck into the library whenever she could did not mean she was anything other than what she was. She was an orphan who had just been lucky that the Couslands were kind people. Many other landholders and nobles would have just let her fend for herself.

She had worked for her keep in Nan’s kitchen and had scrubbed too many floors to be called Messere by anyone. These Free Marchers, she would never understand them. Fereldens had never made the mistake of thinking she was anything more than a soldier, and that was if they were feeling charitable. There were times she had been called much worse. Although, if she was honest with herself, there were times when others had deferred to her, but she maintained that it was because she was often more heavily armed than them.

The stableyard was only slightly more active than the tavern, with a couple of children mucking out the stalls. Marissa found her companions at the end of the yard, scowls on all of their faces.

“We have a problem.”

Marissa couldn’t help the groan that escaped past her lips at Sebastian’s flat delivery. Great, she thought, they hadn’t even started yet and already they had problems.

“And? What? Don’t tell me, the horses have all run away? I don’t see how that’s a problem.”

“Well, no, the horses have not run away, but one got, uh, rather rambunctious last night and is in no shape for the journey we have planned.”

Marissa stared blankly at Sebastian, not comprehending what he was telling her. She looked at Isabela and Fenris and only got faint amusement from them.

“I don’t understand.”

“One of the stable-hands didn’t latch the stalls properly and, well.” Sebastian looked helplessly at Isabela and Fenris as his face flushed with unease.

“Oh Andraste’s tits Sebastian, just tell her that the stallion got himself a filly and fucked her silly before the stable-hands could stop him. She’s not a delicate flower, our Marissa, she knows how babies are born.”

If it was possible, Sebastian flushed even more. How such a simple act of nature could make him this uncomfortable was a mystery to her. Too many years of self-imposed celibacy in the Chantry she supposed.

“The short of it is, the owner won’t let us take the filly, not if she might be pregnant as a result of last night’s festivities, so we’re down to two horses. You’ll have to ride pillion.”

“Ride what?”

A little of the old Isabela rose to the surface as she dramatically sighed and rolled her eyes. “It means we’ll all have to share. And since Broody here barely knows how to ride a horse, that means you’ll be riding with the Choir Boy here.”

“But--.”

“The horses can’t support the weight of two grown men, not through the mountains sweetness.”

Marissa let that sink in. She had already accepted that she would have to share a horse with someone, having never learned to ride a horse herself, but this was different. Looking at Sebastian, he didn’t seem too happy about it either. Well they could just be miserable together she supposed.

“How is it that a pirate knows how to ride a horse?”

“Oh, sweet thing, I've ridden many a thing. It’s all in the hips and legs.”

Fenris choked out a laugh at that while Sebastian turned an even deeper shade of red. Marissa was beginning to think that all those stories Isabela had told her of Sebastian’s misspent youth were just stories. No one who had had sex before and enjoyed it could possibly blush as much as this man was.

“Fine. Just great. Let’s go. We’re in a hurry yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great many thanks to garafthel (Sister_Wolf) for being a most excellent beta!


	3. Chapter 3

It didn’t take long for Marissa to confirm her belief that horses were some type of demon spawn. She would rather walk until her feet bled than ride a horse but she didn’t have much of a choice. The damn thing kept shifting underneath her and her ass felt like it was on fire and bruised to the Void and back. They had made only one brief stop since they had left the inn and it had been just long enough for the feeling in her legs to come to screeching awareness. She considered herself in fighting shape but riding a horse was straining muscles she hadn’t been aware she had.

Travelling across the flatlands was nerve wracking as Sebastian kept them at a near gallop the entire time, slowing only occasionally to give the horses a breather. They kept that pace until they reached the foothills of the Vimmark Mountains at about midday. She was just starting to feel somewhat comfortable riding behind Sebastian when the ground started rising and the incline grew steeper. As the area around them grew more hilly and the path narrowed, the tighter she clung to his waist.

“It would be quite lovely if you could loosen your grip a bit, my lady. It’s getting difficult to breathe.”

Out of spite, she tightened it further before loosening it and grinned with satisfaction when she heard the grunt of pain escape him. It was small of her but it helped to keep her mind off the beast she was riding. Truth be told it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be with the exception of the sore muscles but she would be damned if she told anyone, ever, that.

“I thank you.”

“Whatever. And I told you to stop calling me that.”

“It’s a term of respect, do you not think yourself worthy of it?”

“I don’t seek out the respect of others and don’t expect it. I decide my own worth, I don’t need others deciding if I am or not.”

“Such a prickly thing for one so young.”

“ _Such a prickly thing for one so young_ ,” she mocked. Maker’s breath, she hoped this journey over the mountains didn’t last long. She enjoyed being this close to Sebastian only slightly more than she enjoyed being on the thrice-damned horse. The closeness bothered her, being pressed up so tightly against him. If she was brave enough, she would have kept as minimal a hold as she possibly could, but the thought of falling off the horse forced her to wrap her arms around his waist.

He wore armor that was similar to hers. The shiny white armor she had been told about was long gone. His current armor was still quality workmanship, just not as shiny. To distract from her increasingly sore muscles she started peppering him with questions regarding his former armor.

“So, what happened to this infamous shiny white armor I was told about? I must admit I’m somewhat disappointed that I don’t get to see it.”

She felt Sebastian stiffen in her arms briefly before he relaxed. “I still have it, it is just not... appropriate, for me to wear now.”

“What does that mean, ‘not appropriate’? If it’s good armor it shouldn’t be gathering dust in some trunk somewhere.”

“Isabela did say you were ever the practical one.” 

“Isabela thinks I’m too serious. I think I just like being alive without being poked full of holes. I like my skin intact with all my bits where they belong too much to just blithly toss away good armor,” she answered, leaning back despite her unease of riding a horse, her curiosity seeping through. “So, what’d you do with the armor?”

“Persistent as well as practical.”

“But not predictable I hope.”

“I don’t think we know each other well enough for me to be able to judge that.”

Marissa snorted. What she knew of Sebastian Vael was gleaned from the stories that Isabela and Fenris told her, with Fenris’s being much more charitable, but both agreed, although in somewhat different wording, that the man was a complex mess of indecision, self-righteousness, and occasional impulsive behavior but loyal to those he believed in, and a pretty damn good archer and fighter.

Her stomach growled, reminding her yet again that she had not eaten before the left. Once the situation with the horses had been sorted out, Isabela was adamant that they head out immediately.

“Maker’s breath, was that your stomach? Did you not eat before we left?”

“There was no time. Isabela had a bug up her ass about leaving right away.”

“Well, it’s not exactly tasty, but this will fill your noisy stomach.” Sebastian reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a small wrapped object, placing it into her hand. Marissa pulled her hand back and showed what she thought of as an unbelievable amount of trust as she let go of him to unwrap the bundle. Hardtack. Wonderful.

“Just eat it, don’t sneer at it.”

Marissa wrinkled her nose at him as she selected a biscuit and handed the bundle back to him. Biting into it she discovered it wasn't as dry and disgusting as she had been expecting. Probably had something to do with the fact that she hadn’t made it herself. Stew and roasted rabbit she could handle but mixing flour, water, and a bit of salt together seemed to be beyond her capabilities. She could never understand how she couldn’t manage what was probably the simplest recipe in the world. Nan had given up on her before long and put her on prep duty, having her cut up onions until her eyes burned from the fumes.

“I added a bit of sugar to it. It doesn't last as long but it makes it a bit more palatable.”

“You can bake?” Marissa didn’t know why that surprised her, but he just didn’t seem like a man who would know which end of a spoon was what.

“I would help in the Chantry kitchens from time to time, helping the cooks make bread. It was a soothing activity and it felt good doing something that helped others. Several of the sisters brought the bread down to Lowtown to help those in need.”

Lowtown maybe, but she knew that those who lived in Darktown rarely saw a crumb unless the sisters ventured down there, something that didn’t happen very often. And even in Lowtown there was never enough for everyone, especially if you had a Fereldan accent. But she kept these thoughts to herself; there was no use in pointing out just how useless the Chantry’s charity had been for the people of Darktown. Those who lived in Darktown had a hard life and each day had made them harder.

She felt Sebastian shift in the saddle and had to grab onto him for support as she felt herself tilt to the side. “Although, it has been brought to my attention as of late that perhaps the Chantry’s charity did not extend as far as it should have.”

A crackling in the bushes prevented Marissa from exploring that statement further. Her ears pricked up as she loosened her blades from their sheaths. More crackling, but now from a different direction. Once she could maybe put it off as an animal scavenging among the brush, but twice and from different directions could only mean trouble.

“Slow down, but don’t look like you’re slowing down. We’re not alone,” she whispered into his shoulder.

“Aye, I hear it too.” Marissa felt the gait of the horse underneath her slow ever so slightly. The smell of rot and sulfur invaded her nose as Sebastian leaned forward as if he was checking the horse’s shoulder joint, his head cocked to one side. He was about to sit up when Marissa noticed the glint of armor shining through the brush followed by a growl that no human, elf, or dwarf could make. The horse whinnied nervously as it shifted back and forth. 

“Stay down!” she ordered as she un-slung her bow and pulled out an arrow nearly simultaneously, shooting just as a hurlock burst through the brush. The arrow sunk into its eye socket and pierced through the back of its skull. Marissa barely had enough time to pull the bow string to its full draw length before the rest of the hoard burst from the bushes. The second arrow buried itself into another hurlock’s throat as she pulled out another arrow to pin a third darkspawn in the knee.

Wanting solid earth under her feet, Marissa pushed at the saddle in front of her and slid off the back of the horse, trusting that the thing wouldn't kick her. The first genlock was nearly upon her as she landed. She brought her bow up, smashing the lower limb of the bow into the beast’s face. It stumbled back, blood gushing from its nose. Marissa didn’t pause as she nocked another arrow and watched with frustration as the arrow lodged itself in the genlock’s shoulder rather than it’s head where she was aiming. Seeing that the lower limb of the bow was cracked, she tossed the thing down and drew her blades. She always preferred a up close fight anyway.

Settling down into a fighting stance, she surveyed the darkspawn around her. There were at least ten more that she could see and only genlocks and hurlocks from what she could see.

“This seems strangely familiar. Didn’t we just leave this party?”

“Apparently there are some latecomers.” Marissa shifted as Isabela formed up beside her. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Fenris’s lyrium tattoos glow amidst the battle as his great sword relieved a hurlock of both of its legs. Focusing her energy, Marissa found her rhythm and flowed between the darkspawn, slicing and stabbing as she went. The darkspawn howled around her, their rage filling the air. 

Grabbing a hurlock from behind, she drew her blade across its neck just as two arrows sprouted in its chest. Marissa glared across the battlefield as Sebastian nocked another arrow, grinning as he pinned another darkspawn in its leg. Disgusted, she tossed the corpse to the side and spun around just in time to parry the swing of a hurlock’s blade. No. Not a hurlock. An emissary. Fuck.

She held back the creature’s staff but she couldn’t block the shock of magic that hit her in the center plate of her armor. Something cracked as she landed several feet away, pain shooting through her skull. Her vision blacked out for what was only a couple of seconds but it was long enough for a genlock to leap on her, bringing its short blade straight down. She brought her arms up in an cross to stop the blade but she could feel it pricking at her neck as the genlock’s drool dripped down, it’s foul breath steaming in her face.

Marissa shifted, holding back the genlock’s blade with one arm as she frantically dug for one of her blades. Her bloody fingers made it hard to grasp onto the handle and she had to keep bringing her hand back to keep the genlock’s blade from piercing her throat, but she finally managed to free her dagger and shove it between the scales of the genlock’s armor. It was fortunate that this particular genlock’s armor was of poorer quality otherwise she would have never been able pierce it. That and the fact that she was lucky enough to grab her one dragonbone blade helped to make sure she broke through the armor. 

The genlock screamed as she twisted the blade and shoved it in further. Marissa turned her head as the thing collapsed on her, its dead weight near crushing her. She couldn’t see anything but the sky above her with the way she was pinned but she could still hear the sounds of battle around her. Knowing she needed to help her friends, Marissa tried to push the genlock off her but one arm was pinned at an awkward angle between them and her other hand was still in a death grip around her blade. She needed to get unstuck and fast; the longer she lay trapped under the darkspawn the higher the probability that she would contract the taint and she wasn't about to let that happen. Not after all that had happened.

Bucking her hips, she managed to dislodge the genlock off her enough for her to free her arm and push the blighted thing off her. She rolled over and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, forcing her breath to even out. Bile formed in the back of her throat and she just managed to keep herself from retching. Standing up, she pulled her blade from the genlock and twisted her lips at the sucking sound it made as the flesh released the blade. She wiped the blade on her leather breeches as she looked around. The road was littered with darkspawn bodies and she watched distantly as Fenris reached into the emissary’s chest and crushed its heart.

“Are you okay?”

Marissa turned and looked up at Sebastian. Blood splattered his armor and one side of his face and somehow that made his eyes blaze even bluer, if that was possible. Returning her blade back to its spot, she started to nod her head when pain streaked through it. The world blurred for a moment and Sebastian caught her as she swayed. Her brain was clearing as he inspected her head. She squeaked in pain as he probe a particularly tender area.

“I don’t think you cracked it but it’s going to hurt something fierce until we get some elfroot into you.”

“I don't want any blasted elfroot.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You nearly passed out when you stood up. It will help with the pain.”

“She hates the taste of it. I had to pinch her nose shut once and have Fenris pour it down her throat to make sure she’d take it.” Isabela sighed. “There are times when I miss having a healer around. Made things like this a lot easier.”

“Oh shut up. You know it tastes like the ass-end of a nug.”

“Oh my, I didn’t realize you were into such kinky things. Where _is_ my journal?”

“Piss off, Isabela.”

Because it was easier than taking more ridicule and it was quicker, Marissa snatched the vial of elfroot from Isabela's hand and chugged it down without further complaint. She tried not to retch as the potion hit her stomach. If she didn't know better she would think that Isabela purposely sought out the most disgusting elfroot recipes that she could find. Her body tingled as if pricked by thousands of needles as the potion did its work. She could feel it racing through her veins until it hit her head and wrapped its thready fingers around the wound hidden beneath her hair. 

Marissa closed her eyes and tried to relax as she let the potion work. She hated the way it made her feel, how she didn't feel in control of her body as it worked. As the effects started to fade away, Marissa carefully opened her eyes and closed them almost as quickly as a wave of dizziness hit her. It was a good thing that she was already sitting down, as it was she still swayed to the side and would have fallen over if Sebastian hasn't grabbed hold of her. 

"What's wrong with her?"

"She doesn't react well to elfroot. Makes her dizzy when she takes it. She throws up if she takes too much," Isabela told him quietly as if keeping her voice soft would help Marissa's dizziness to pass. "We've tried different combinations. This one seems to have fewer side effects."

"I've never seen anyone react to elfroot like this before."

"I'm just special that way I guess."

"Did it ever occur you to stay out of situations where taking elfroot wasn't a possibility?"

"Why yes, Sebastian. I'll just tell all those pesky little darkspawn to go pick on someone else. Why didn't I think if that before? I must be an idiot," Marissa drawled, finally able to open her eyes without the world going topsy-turvy. It was always worse when she had a head injury. Maybe she should seriously look into getting some kind of helmet. Problem was most of them hindered her peripheral vision and she really didn’t like feeling as if she was being enclosed in something. 

"We should leave this area as soon as possible. I don't like the silence of this place and dead darkspawn are likely to draw more," Fenris said, his voice gravelly as he shifted on the balls of his feet.

"If not actual darkspawn then blight wolves and I've been drooled on enough for one day." Marissa slowly got to her feet, warding off Sebastian's protest with a sharp glare. Yes, elfroot made her ill but it didn't incapacitate her. She would live and if he continued to mother hen over her he was going to regret it. Looking over the road she couldn't help but smile at the pile of bodies they had accrued. 

"We made quite a mess, didn't we?"

"But we made a mess with style don't you think?"

"We always do Isabela." Marissa picked her way through the mess, shoving bodies over with her foot. Severed limbs and various viscera littered the path, they would at least have to clear the road if not burn them but she doubted they had the time to do so. 

She reached the edge of the road, finally finding what she was looking for. Kneeling down, she gingerly picked up her bow, or rather what was left of it. 

"Dammit. I really liked this bow." The lower limb was cracked and split up the middle all the way to the grip. There was no salvaging it. "Only good for firewood now."

"Well you _did_ use it as a club. It was made from heartwood not ironbark."

"First of all Isabela, using ironbark to make a bow is incredibly stupid and impractical and second that's not the point."

"I know sweetling. We'll get you a new one when we get to Kirkwall."

"Yeah. Sure," Marissa responded, ridiculously close to tears. It was just a stupid bow but it was the last thing she had owned that had made it with her from Ferelden. "Let's go."

Marissa stood up, surprised to see the horses standing silently a dozen yards away, nibbling on some wild grass. She had expected them to run off during the battle, too frightened of the darkspawn to stick around. 

"They are Starkhaven horses. Quite sturdy and reliable," Sebastian spoke softly from behind her. Marissa tried not to be irked that he had not only been able to read the surprise on her face but that he had been able to approach her from behind without her hearing him. 

"I am sorry about your bow. I know how important they are."

Marissa looked down, surprised to see that she was still holding it in her hands. Some things were difficult to let go of she supposed. 

"It's just a stupid bow," she responded as she tossed it down. "I can get another, not like this one, but there are always others. Let's get these bodies off the road and get moving. Fenris is right, we don't want to linger here for much longer."

Sebastian watched her as she walked away, her gait careful and her back straight. She tried to portray that the destruction of her bow meant nothing but he had seen the look on her face when she saw that it was broken. The shadowy look of loss on her face pulled at him. He ran a finger down the spine of his grandfather's bow, remembering the utter shock of pleasure when Hawke had returned it to him. He didn't want to think about what it would feel like to lose it again. 

Bending down, he picked up the broken bow from the ground. It was of sound construction and marked with beautiful scroll work that served no practical purpose but had obvious significance to its owner no matter how much she tried to hide it. Fenris watched him curiously as Sebastian carefully wrapped it into his pack, arching a silver eyebrow at him. Sebastian shrugged slightly and shook his head slightly, his eyes darting over to where Marissa and Isabela were dragging darkspawn corpses off the road with Isabela grumbling the whole time. 

Sebastian grabbed the emissary's body and shoved it over the cliff. He watched it tumble down, hitting rockfall and the random bush before it disappeared over the far edge. 

"I don't know much about bows Sebastian, but I'm pretty sure that one is beyond repair. What are you doing?"

"Did you see her face Fenris?"

"I did," Fenris responded carefully. 

"I remembered what you said last night, about how her story was hers to tell and that you weren't going to take that away from her. That bow is part of her story and she shouldn’t have to lose it."

"Yes. I did say that, didn't I? I also seem to remember telling you that you were too old for her."

"This has nothing to do with that," Sebastian told him as they grabbed hold of another body and tossed it after its brother. Fenris said nothing and Sebastian found himself in the ridiculous position of having to defend himself to his friend. "By Andraste, I only met her last night, how could you think--?"

"Because I recognize the look of a man who sees something he likes and might be tempted to try it out. Tread carefully my friend."

"Oh for fuck's sake Fenris, let it go," Sebastian said tightly, too annoyed to be ashamed of language that the Grand Cleric would surely disapprove of. "I just thought that maybe it could be salvaged. It obviously means a lot to her, I'd hate for her to lose something so precious."

"For someone who denies that he has no interest in her, you certainly pay close attention to her feelings and moods."

"Shut up Fenris."

"Are you two done gossiping? We should go before it gets much later. I'm hoping we can make the pass before nightfall." Isabela wiped her hands as she looked down at herself. 

“Ugh, and I was so enjoying the smell of not being covered in blood and shit. So much for that bath.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great many thanks to garafthel (Sister_Wolf) for being a most excellent beta!


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the journey up the mountains was relatively unremarkable. They crossed over the pass late afternoon. Marissa stared out over the valley below, seeing the Helpertine River winding its way down the mountainside and spreading out into a delta field. It shone like a silver ribbon through the valley below with the Planasene Forest to the west and the boggy mess that led to Kirkwall. She knew from experience that the area was a swampy combination of bugs and creatures best left alone and she hoped that they didn’t have to venture through it to get to Kirkwall.

Sunlight filtered through the clouds above as the sun descended to the west. There was two, maybe three hours of good daylight left before they would be forced to stop for the night. Sweat dripped down her spine, pooling at her lower back. She couldn’t wait to loosen her armor so that she could dry out and perhaps splash some water on herself. It wasn’t that she needed to be clean all the time, but Isabela had made an excellent point when she mentioned that being clean had not lasted long and it was anyone’s guess as to when they would have another opportunity.

The horses picked their way carefully down the mountainside with her and Sebastian taking the lead. She looked at the back of his head, catching only bits of his profile. Isabela hadn't been lying that his being committed to the Chantry was one of the biggest crimes in all of Thedas. He had thick russet-colored hair that just begged to have fingers run through it. It curled at his nape, only slightly shorter than her own hair.

No, there was no denying that he was a most admirable specimen of the male species, she was just unclear on his other aspects and one day was not enough to judge his character. Especially since he seemed to contradict himself every time she turned around. A sound fighter, a man of deep faith, but one who seemed adrift in this world. That was something she could relate to. In quiet moments, when she was alone, she often wondered if she would ever be able to stand still, to stay in one place without the spectre of death hanging over her.

"Staring is rather rude don't you think?"

"It's not staring if one has nothing else to look at." How did he do that, Marissa wondered. She could add very aware of his surroundings to the list of his qualities. 

“Give it a few minutes and we’ll reach the Gaiderbach Falls. Tis something to look at in my opinion, one of the Maker’s finer creations but it doesn't hold a candle to how the sun catches Minanter on an early fall morning or how the fog settles in the low valleys in the spring in Starkhaven.”

Sebastian sounded so wistful in his remembrances that Marissa didn’t have the heart to snort at him. She liked nature just fine but she didn’t see the point in ogling over something that the Maker may or may not have had a hand in.

Marissa wasn't sure if the Maker was real or not. She had seen enough in her life to wonder how such a powerful being could let such horrible things happen, but she also remembered small things, little things that most people would overlook. A stranger giving a child a blanket to let him know he wasn't alone in the world, a child spending her last coin to buy flowers for her sick mum, a soldier taking a stand to fight when it would have been easier and safer to run away. They were small in the grander scheme of things but they gave her hope that perhaps not all was lost.

A roaring sound grew as they descended, gradually growing louder the further they went. As they rounded a corner Marissa was greeted with a sight she had never seen before. Plunging nearly two hundred feet to the river below, the water echoed around them, sending a fine mist into the air. The sun peeked through the trees just then and caught individual droplets creating a prism effect and casting multicolored light to full the area below them.

Marissa tried not to be impressed but couldn't help herself. Never had she seen anything more beautiful. She had spent most of her life in cities or trekking across well traveled roads. The only time she had ventured into the wild was when she had escaped Kirkwall to Ostwick and even then it hadn't involved going this deep into nature. She shuddered to think of what it would be like to go through the Planasene Forest and the creatures that were rumored to live there.

"Did I not tell you that it was impressive?"

Just to be contrary, Marissa came back with, "It's water cutting through rock. Give it enough time and the rock won't be there any more."

"You truly have no sense of wonder do you?"

"It certainly is pretty but I much prefer my water to be big and vast and salty. What say you Fenris?"

An unaffected grunt was all the response he gave. Fenris's disinterest in the natural world wasn't uncommon among city born elves but his disinterest went beyond that. "Having never experienced the seas as you have Isabela I have nothing to compare it with."

"And that concludes the nature portion of today's discussion. Do you think we can make the base before nightfall, Choir Boy?"

Marissa felt Sebastian stiffen in her arms. He really did not like being called that and Isabela knew it which was probably why she did it.

"We could but it would be tricky. I'd rather not risk the horses, or for that matter, fumbling around in the dark."

"You have a point. I haven't fumbled around in the dark, in well, years. Now if we were talking about ripping clothes off and falling against the closest hard surface that would be a completely different matter."

"Must you be so vulgar?"

"It's only vulgar if you're embarrassed by a natural act between two people. Pretending it doesn't exist does nothing to stop it Choir Boy. I know who I am, do you know who you are?"

Sebastian prodded his horse forward, the sudden motion sending Marissa tilting back before she grabbed at Sebastian's belt.

"Maker's balls, Sebastian. Warn a girl before you do something like that."

The archer didn't answer as he led them around the curve of the mountain. Marissa glared back at Isabela. There was a time and a place to piss of a man and now was not one of those times, especially when Marissa was stuck on the same horse with him.

"Perhaps you shouldn't antagonize him while Marissa is at his mercy on that horse," Fenris chided.

"Oh sod it Fenris. He's had ten years to develop calluses, it's not my fault if his skin is too thin to take some ribbing."

"All the same, it would probably be best for all if you tried to behave."

"Oh my sweet elf, it's like you don't know me at all. When have you known me to behave?"

"Only when it suits you."

"Exactly. And I figured if he stays pissed off he won't go forward with whatever impure thoughts are running through that thick head of his in regards to his riding companion."

"Ah. Caught that did you?"

"Sweetie, I'll be dead and buried a year before I don't notice a man seeing something or someone he likes."

"So there's a point behind your needling. And here I thought you were just having a bit of fun."

"Let's just call that a pleasant side benefit. I had forgotten how much fun it was to poke holes at him."

"Even so, I'd be careful. A person can only be pushed so far before he breaks." Fenris paused, an idea sliding into his mind as he dipped his head forward to inhale her scent before placing a soft kiss at the juncture of her neck. To look at him you wouldn't much recognize the man from the one a even a year ago. This was much more affectionate Fenris, one who sought out companionship and didn't have to be pried out of a dank and crumbling mansion.

"Careful love, you wouldn't want to start something that can't be finished. I'm all for kink, but on a horse riding down a mountainside? Not advisable."

Fenris's fingers slipped forward, sliding up the skin of her thighs. Muscled and toned, he knew exactly how they felt wrapped around him when he was buried in her. The pirate and the slave. Who knew?

"There's a first time for everything. And all you have to do is sit there. I'd be doing all the work." His hand slipped further up, sliding underneath the edge of her thigh length tunic, aided by the fact that there were slits near up to her hips. He could simply just trace his fingers over her golden skin for hours and never get bored.

"You're trying to distract me."

"Is it working?" he asked as his other hand cupped her breast, feeling the heavy weight of it in his hand while the fingers of his other hand inched closer to the apex of her legs.

"Not for lack of trying," she sighed as she pushed his hand away before it could reach its intended target. "And trust me, sweetling. You _will_ pay for this later."

"I certainly hope so," he responded huskily, shifting behind her to relieve the pressure. It was his own fault but he couldn't help himself with her.

“I've created a monster. I remember a time when you didn’t like to be touched, much less touch others unless you were plunging your hand into their chests to crush their hearts.”

“Indeed there was, but things have changed and my life is significantly better for it.”

“I guess one could say mine has too. I blame Hawke for this; it’s all his fault.”

“So it would seem,” Fenris answered, wondering not for the first time where Hawke had gone after that final battle against Meredith. Siding with the mages had been a risky move, one Fenris still didn’t completely agree with but when faced with the truth of the Templar brutality and ruthlessness, he couldn’t not follow Hawke. To not follow Hawke would make him complicit in the slaughter of innocents and Fenris had already committed such an act once and he had no intention of letting it happen again. 

That didn’t mean he hated mages any less but he had learned that evil came from all quarters, whether magic was involved or not.

Fenris looked out over the valley, imagining that he could see Kirkwall in the falling darkness. He wondered what the city was like now with Knight-Commander Meredith gone, if Knight-Commander Cullen was able to reign in the more radical branches of the Templars or if he was still even in charge. From what he knew of the man, he had not had an easy life, experiencing the worst aspects of both the mages and the Templars. Fenris could relate to that.

XXX

They made camp about an hour before the sun disappeared over the mountains. This part of the Vimmark Mountains couldn’t seem to decide what it wanted to be. To the west stretched the Planasene Forest, below them a fertile river valley, and to the east a rugged mountain range that bordered on desolate in many places. Sundermount loomed over all of them, its shadow cast wide and far. Marissa had always hated that mountain and had avoided it whenever she could.

Though the last bits of summer still held on, the air at this elevation chilled her and made her wish for a fire, but common sense said that a fire would only attract unwanted attention. Who knew what else lurked in the night?

Looking at her companions she thought that she was weathering the cold better than them. Even though she hadn't seen Ferelden in nearly a decade, her tolerance to the cold and damp was still pretty high. Not that she liked being cold and damp but it was something she was used to.

Marissa turned her thoughts toward their goal. They had minimal information and a good portion of it was based on rumor and conjecture. There was nothing to say that Varric hadn't taken off for places elsewhere, just as there wasn't any proof that the dwarf wasn't rotting in some dank cell that the Seekers had thrown him in. There was too much they didn't know and it felt like they were going in blind; something that she actively tried to avoid at all costs.

The Seekers. Marissa suddenly wished that she had paid more attention to Aldous's lessons on the history and organization of the Chantry. Such knowledge would be very handy at the moment but at the time she had been more interested in the strategies the Orlesians had used to conquer Ferelden as well as what the Rebel Queen and her troops had done to fight them. Those lessons had served her well over the years but now she was racking her brain for any kernel of knowledge she had of the Seekers.

She turned her attention toward Sebastian. He had been a brother in the Chantry, surely he knew more of the Seekers than the average person. Pushing herself up, Marissa walked over to where he stood brushing the horses down. The monotonous activity seemed to have smoothed over the tension that had built up in him over the afternoon as a result of Isabela's ribbing. The pirate had taken unusual pleasure in needling the man and Marissa knew there must be a reason behind it but she couldn't figure it out. She forced herself to set the matter aside, focusing on more important matters.

"It seems to me that as a brother in the Chantry you would have a good amount more knowledge about the Seekers than the average person." The slight twitch in his shoulders told her that he hadn't heard her approach and she mentally notched a tally in her column. Maybe it was silly of her to keep score but it helped to pass the time and it amused her.

"Rumor has it that you were also quite close with Grand Cleric Elthina; surely you must have some inside information that even your a average Chantry sister or brother would have."

"Yes, the Grand Cleric and I were close. She was a balm in my life when I didn't even realize that I needed one but she kept the inner workings of the Chantry to herself."

"But surely she must have told you something. A person doesn't spend the amount of time you did in the Chantry without gleaning some information about what goes on behind the curtain."

Sebastian replaced the brush in the saddlebag, smoothing his hand over the horse's hide before be turned toward her. His gaze was steady but unreadable. Marissa was usually pretty good at reading people but Sebastian eluded her.

"I was merely a lay brother in the Chantry. Yes, I made vows and I adhered to them but I was not a sworn brother, not in the Grand Cleric's eyes anyway."

"What is that supposed to mean? I don't understand."

"Did Isabela not tell you?"

"Tell me what? All she said was that you were a pious prick who liked to preach to the unwashed masses. Fenris was much more charitable toward you," she added quickly as his eyes darkened. Maker, she had never seen someone flash so hot so fast before. Well, that was one rumor laid to rest.

"Did they tell you of my family, of what happened to them?"

Marissa's stance softened. Yes, they had told her. He was yet another person who suffered at the hands of the greedy and the grasping and just because he wasn't there to witness it didn't make the pain any less.

"When I vowed vengeance on the bastards who murdered my family, I broke my vows to the Chantry. The Grand Cleric wouldn't allow me to renew them unless I committed myself fully to the Chantry and became a cloistered brother."

"But, but that's blackmail. She had no right to force such a choice on you. The decision to do such a thing shouldn't be forced, you either want it fully or no. No one should be forced into servitude like that, it cheapens the service."

Sebastian was silent after she finished and for a moment Marissa feared she had overstepped her bounds. No matter what his life situation was at the moment, he was still the Prince of Starkhaven even if he didn't hold the seat, but she just couldn't fathom that someone he had obviously admired and trusted would force such a choice on him. When he stepped closer to her and more fully into the light she still couldn't tell if she had crossed a line.

"Do you know that no one has ever said that to me before?"

"Sebastian, I'm--."

"No, what you said makes perfect sense and you are right. Forcing someone into something they are not sure is best for them is not fair. I'm sure that the Grand Cleric thought that she was only working toward my best interests, but the further removed I get from the situation I found myself in then, the more clearly I can see it. Hawke tried to tell me something like you just did but I was too stubborn to hear it."

Marissa remained silent, unsure how to respond. This was not the reason she had approached him.

"I've made you uncomfortable, for that I apologize." He sighed heavily, bowing his head slightly. When he looked back up at her his eyes were calmer but no less intense.

"You asked about the Seekers. I wish there was more that I could tell you, I truly do, but I'm afraid that there isn't. What I know of the Seekers I have already told you. And I can only guess as to why they have taken Varric. It is a poorly kept secret in Kirkwall that he runs half if not more of the spies and my guess is that is why they took him. He knew the most obscure things."

Sebastian trailed off as his eyes unfocused. It didn't pass Marissa's attention that he spoke of Varric in the past tense. He's already given up, she thought, and they had barely begun.

She opened her mouth to speak but closed it quickly, unsure how to proceed. His moods were so mercurial and she was hesitant to push them in the wrong direction. Fuck it, she thought. She hadn't gotten this far, survived through everything by being timid.

"You sound like everything is already lost. You can't go into this thinking like that. If you start thinking that saving Varric is a lost cause then you might as well leave. Doubt is an infectious thing and Isabela is already on edge enough, she doesn't need your doubt swirling about her."

"You are awfully sure of yourself for one so young."

"None of us are young, Sebastian. Some of us never had a chance to be."

Before she could step away, Sebastian's hand stretched out, catching her cheek. The sudden movement and the intimacy of his touch froze her near to paralysis.

"What happened to you?"

Marissa swallowed heavily, her breath tight in her chest. His fingers were rough with calluses formed from years of archery but they were gentle on her skin. She wasn't sure of her reaction to his touch and she was even less sure of how she felt about her reaction to his touch. Maker, she wasn't making any sense.

"What happened to cause you to carry such sadness and anger within you?"

The horse behind them chose that moment to stamp its hoof and nudge Sebastian's shoulder with its head, breaking whatever spell had fallen over them.

"I think your horse is hungry," she answered as she stepped back, breaking contact with him. "I'm going to go get some sleep. You can have first watch."

Marissa walked back to her bedroll trying, and failing, to ignore the pounding in her chest and head. It was a long time before she was able to will herself to sleep.

XXXX

They rose with the dawn again, her muscles sore and her eyes gritty from lack of sleep. She used a bit of water from her water-skin to wash away the night. This was two mornings in a row now that she had woken up with a pounding headache. She hoped that this wasn't going to be a regular thing.

Dreams had haunted her during the night and had kept her from getting any real sleep. That and the rock that seemed to stick in the middle of her back no matter what position she had tried.

Everyone was quiet that morning. With Kirkwall about a full day's ride away the fear started to creep in that they may not make it in time to find Varric. None of them really knew to what lengths the Seekers would go to in order to find the answers they were looking for. Marissa determined that it depended on what questions they were asking and what their goal was. It had to have something to do with all the Circles falling but Marissa suspected that it was bigger than that and that it was somehow connected to the increased number of darkspawn, demons, and other creatures they kept running into. She tried to remember the last time they had a straight up fight against people, be they human, dwarf, or elf, and had trouble coming up with an answer.

They made good time getting down the rest of the mountain to its base. Once there, they were able to pick up the pace and follow the Helpertine River south. Trees and various flora populated the banks and they tried to keep as much to the path as possible but occasionally they were forced deeper into the trees where the shadows grew long to avoid the boggy ground that made up the banks of the river.

They were on one such detour when they heard the unmistakable sounds of metal clashing upon metal interspersed with grunts and the sharp tang of magic in the air.

"We've gone nearly a day without a fight; I was getting worried. I mean, seriously, a girl could get bored without some type of stimulation," Isabela drawled. "Shall we interfere?"

"What's a little more blood and viscera?" Marissa responded. "Can't be too far away. I can smell the magic. There's at least one mage up ahead."

"You can smell magic?"

"You mean you can't, Sebastian? Come on, get this four-legged beast moving. Don't want to miss out on the fun."

They reached the clearing in less than five minutes but what they found wasn't what they had expected. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, many of them scorched with fire, some looked as if a giant fist had flattened them into the ground. In the middle of it all stood a straw colored blonde elf wielding what at first looked like a long sword but upon looking closer Marissa saw that it was a cleverly designed mage's staff. The mage in question spun toward them, staff raised and sparking with energy.

"Well isn't this just wonderful. More shemlen. I'm having a rather shitty day and these idiots didn't help, so if you're really intent on fighting me I am happy to oblige."

Marissa couldn't place the elf's accent. It didn't sound like anything from the Free Marches or Ferelden and it wasn't Orlesian either. Her darker toned skin tagged her as possibly from Antiva but with as far and wide as the Dalish roamed throughout Thedas she could be from anywhere.

Against Sebastian's protests, Marissa slid off the horse and faced the elf, keeping her hands visible. "We're not interested in starting anything, trust me. We're full up on trouble."

"I didn't start this either but these here insisted." The elf gestured to the bodies lying around her. One elf against four Templars; Marissa couldn't help but be impressed. 

"Oh, there's no love lost between us and the Templars. I'm sure they deserved it."

"You don't know the half of it. They just bloody attacked me. On sight. Didn't matter to them that I'm not a blood mage." The elf spat on their bodies before kicking one of them. 

There was enough hate in her voice to fill Lake Calenhad twice over. 

"So you aren't a blood mage then?" Fenris’s cut in, his voice laced with caution and disbelief.

"Fenris. Don't antagonize the pissed off mage. We all need to get to Kirkwall in one piece."

“Kirkwall? Why in Mythal's name would you want to go there? Don't you know what's happening there?”

“You've been there then? Recently?” Isabela demanded, reigning her horse around but staying on it so she could make a quick exit if needs be.

“Yes,” the elf said slowly, her wide eyes narrowing. “Left there yesterday and it's not a place that I want to visit any time soon. The Templars still rule there. Not exactly a friendly place to be for people like me.”

“Fair enough, but can you tell us anything about what's going on there? We've heard... rumors of other things going on.”

The elf laughed at that, and laughed hard. She bent over, leaning on her staff, clutching her stomach. Marissa glanced up at Sebastian, raising an eyebrow at him. The royal archer just shrugged, having no response to the elf's behavior.

Her laughter started to wane as she straightened herself up, pushing her disheveled hair away from her face. Mirth still covered the elf's face but Marissa caught a glimpse of something dark and sad hiding behind her wide green eyes.

“Oh, I am sorry. It's been awhile since I've laughed like that. Haven't really had much to laugh at lately,” the elf said as she wiped the tears off her cheeks. “Lots of things have been going on in Kirkwall lately, more than in the last ten years combined and that's saying a lot.”

“What do you mean? Do you speak of the Seekers? Have you seen them?” Sebastian's voice was sharp.

“If a mage wants to live, especially an elf mage, she avoids anything to do with the Chantry, the Templars, and the Seekers. The Seekers are a new breed to Kirkwall, that is certain, but I'd rather not mess with them. Supposedly they search for the truth. The truth of what I have no idea. Just another group of shemlen working to subjugate the rest of us in my opinion.”

“That's not much more than we already know. Dammit.” Isabela swung her leg over the horse's head as she dismounted and approached the elf. “Are you sure you don't know anything else? A very good friend of mine was taken by the Seekers and I want him back, preferably in one piece.”

“If the Seekers have taken your friend I can't help you. I'm making for parts unknown. Somewhere the reach of the Templars don't extend to.”

“You'll have to travel quite a ways for that. I don't know of any place where the Templars aren't.” Marissa paused, cocking her head to one side. “Except maybe Par Vollen, but I doubt you want to go there. The Qunari are about as accepting of mages as the Templars are.”

“Yeah, the Qunari. I've heard rumors about them too.”

“Well, aren't you just a little font of information. Are you from Antiva, sweet thing? I hear the best spies come from there. Knew an Antivan once. He was most resourceful.”

“I've heard the same thing, but no, not from Antiva. Not from any place really. None of the Dalish are.”

“Speaking of which, where is the rest of your clan? You don't see many Dalish travelling alone.” Marissa heard the caution in Fenris's voice. In the time that she had known him he had rarely shown interest in other elves, be they city or Dalish, but it was a reasonable question. Why was the elf travelling alone?

“About as many that travel with a bunch of shemlen. Like the tattoos by the way. Just how far do they go? Can't tell with all that armor.”

Out of the corner of her eye Marissa saw Fenris's tattoos flare slightly at the remark. They were still a sore subject with him and probably always would be. The elf mage's reaction was quite satisfactory as she pulled back and readied her staff.

“ _You_. I've heard of you. You were one of The Champion's companions. I would _definitely_ avoid Kirkwall if I were you. The Seekers are partic--.” The elf's words trailed off as she took another step back, her voice lowering into a whisper. “You're all his companions.”

“They were. I wasn't. I'm new.”

“New or not. None of you should go any further. The Seekers are looking for The Champion and anyone who knew him. They've already got the dwarf.”

“How is it that you know so much? Did you tell them? Were you the one who turned him over to them?” Isabela advanced, drawing her daggers. Marissa stepped back but kept a ready hand on her own weapons. Out of the corner of her eye she could see both Fenris and Sebastian do the same.

“Do you honestly think I of all people would have anything to do with them? I actively avoid those types.”

“Perhaps. But you wouldn't be the first to crack and betray others to save their own skin.”

“Says someone who sounds like they speak from experience.”

Isabela took another step forward and Marissa had to leap forward to hold her back. “Stand down, Isabela, we can't get information out of her if she's dead.”

“I wasn't planning on killing her. Maybe remove a few fingers though.”

“Just calm down. Maybe, just maybe, she's telling the truth. Think about it. Elves alone had a difficult enough time in Kirkwall and elf mages even more so. She doesn't seem the type. I can tell.” Marissa had seen desperate and this elf didn’t seem desperate. Determined was a better description.

“Is that your intuition speaking or are you just guessing?”

“A little of both perhaps.”

“If you're done deciding whether or not to kill me, I'd like to go. I want to get as far away from Kirkwall as I possibly can.”

Marissa turned back to the elf, giving her a sunny smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. “Oh no. You're going to stay here and tell us everything you know. We're all going to sit down and have a nice chat.”

The elf looked at each of them in turn before returning her gaze back to Marissa. Her lips twisted and her brow furrowed as she contemplated her options. After several seconds she lowered her staff and relaxed her stance. 

“Fine. I'll tell you what I can. The name's Taran. Do you have anything to eat? Killing Templars is busy work and I'm starving.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great many thanks to Sister_Wolf for being a most excellent beta!


	5. Chapter 5

They sat in a loose circle as they shared a meager fare of hardtack and dried meat. Judging by the careful way that Taran ate, Marissa guessed that the elf hadn't eaten in awhile. Not surprising. There were few who would give aid to an elf, even fewer would if she didn't hide the fact that she was also a mage.

“The Seekers showed up about a month ago. One day they were just there, like they stepped out of the Fade. They started in Hightown, tearing apart the Amell estate. My guess is that they didn't find what they were looking for and that's why they took your friend.”

“Sebastian?”

“That sounds close to the reports that I have. I guess I'm lucky they didn't take me as well.”

“Losing the shiny armor probably helped. It did make you stand out in a crowd.” Isabela idly inspected her nails as she reclined against a tree stump. Sebastian slid her a dark glance but otherwise ignored her. His armor would always be a touchy subject but apparently he was getting back some of his immunity to the constant ribbing he had suffered from Isabela. The woman was a trial to be certain but there was a surprising amount of goodheartedness in her. For a pirate that is. 

“The city got pretty quiet once the Seekers came. People stay indoors as much as they could. The markets were near empty even during peak hours. I heard more than one merchant lamenting, the ones who kept their stalls open that is, lamenting the Seekers’ presence and how they were bad for business.” Taran paused, eating the last of her portion of dried meat. “The Templars were already in a foul mood before they came; it got considerably worse afterwards. The persecution didn’t end, they just got better at hiding it. Many of those arse-faced bastards had gotten too used to the power they had under Meredith and didn’t like their activities investigated and curtailed.”

“What do you mean, “investigated?” Last I heard the Templars were pretty much a law unto their own.” Marissa stared hard at the elf, wondering how she knew so much.

“I heard a rumor that the Seekers are sent out to investigate Templar conduct and if their actions in Kirkwall didn’t warrant some investigation I don’t know what does.”

“I find it curious how you know so much about the Seekers. You wouldn't have possibly made a deal with them to say, get safe passage out of the city, would you? I can’t imagine that it would have been easy getting out of Kirkwall, unnoticed, you being both a mage and an elf.” Marissa leaned forward, staring fixedly at the elf. Taran pursed her lips as she stared back and crossed her arms. Marissa kept silent and held her gaze, knowing that sometimes silence was the best weapon a person could wield.

“Oh fine. Yes, I made a deal. But not the one you’re thinking of. I had nothing to do with your dwarf’s disappearance. All I did was relay information about the Gallows, information I’m sure that the Templars wouldn't want to become public knowledge. The Seekers cornered me and didn’t give me much of a choice. Cassandra, the head Seeker, she’s one persistent bitch. If anyone is conducting the dwarf’s interrogation, you can bet your asses it’s her.”

“Cassandra. Cassandra. Where do I know that name?” Isabela snapped her fingers. “She wouldn't be from Nevarra by any chance would she?”

“She had an Nevarran accent if that’s what you mean. We didn’t exactly braid each other’s hair and swap stories about our childhood.”

“Well, well, well. Cassandra Pentaghast, the Hero of Orlais is a Seeker and in Kirkwall. The Divine certainly isn't fucking around is she?” Isabela cocked her head, a deceptively pleasant smile spreading across her face. “Cassandra’s not exactly known for her fondness for mages. Just how good was the information you gave her that she was willing to let you go? Must have been some pretty juicy Templar secrets for you to not end up in the Gallows.”

“You know what? This is bullshit. I've told you what I know. She wanted to know the inner workings of the Gallows and I told her. She wanted to hear how the Templars treated the mages and I told her. I told her every last dirty detail. Every cruelty they inflicted upon us. Every demeaning act.”

“I thought you were Dalish. What were you doing in the Gallows?”

“Those Templar _Agaryulnaerea_ caught me and dragged me there. How else do you think I got there?” Taran stood up, tossing her water skin on the ground. Electric sparks sizzled between her fingers and up her arms as she stared off into the woods. The rest of them remained quiet, waiting until she regained control of herself. Slowly the sparks faded and she turned back to them, her body more relaxed but fury still hung on in her eyes. “I grew up Dalish. Knew nothing but my clan and its workings. Then a sickness ran through my clan, killing almost everyone. It worked fast. One day a person was fine, maybe had a little cough, but within two days they were dead. There were a lot of trees planted that month.”

Marissa’s skin crawled at the mention of sickness. It sounded too familiar to what had happened in Highever. Many graves had been dug that summer as well. She wanted to ask Taran more about it but held her tongue. Now was not the time.

“So, you spilled to the Seekers and they let you go. What I want to know is just how you got out of the city undetected. I doubt that you got an armed escort out of the city,” Isabela commented as she tucked her water skin away before turning her full gaze on the elf.

“Well, no. There are tunnels that lead out into…” The elf paused her eyes going wide. “No, uh huh. No. You can find your own way into the city. I've done enough charity work for one day.”

“If you want to get out of this forest alive mage, you _will_ show us how to get in.” Fenris’s tattoos flared as he stood up, reaching for his broad sword. Taran stepped back into a ready stance, her eyes darting over to her staff. Rolling her eyes, Marissa stepped in between them, ignoring Sebastian’s protest as she glared at the two elves.

“Dammit, stop it. Fenris back off. Threatening her with imminent death isn't going to get us anywhere. I've spilled a lot of blood over the last couple of days, I’d like to go through at least one day without blood all over me.” Marissa then turned on the elf. “And you. I get going back to Kirkwall isn't high on your list but we need your help. These three are well known and won’t be able to get through the gates without being seen.” Marissa ignored Isabela’s yelp of protest as she continued. “I could get through, but I can’t do this alone.”

Silence filled the clearing with only the sound of birds chirping in the trees. Both elves shifted on their feet, waiting for the other to move. Marissa sighed, she was really getting tired of playing the peacemaker. It wasn't exactly her strong suit but she would do what was needed for them to achieve their goal and if that meant stepping between two pissed off elves, _again_ , so be it.

“Taran, please. You’re our best chance to get into Kirkwall and save our friend.”

“I thought you’ve never met him.”

“It doesn't matter if I've met him or not. It’s the right thing to do,” Marissa replied softly. “And I think you know it.”

“Why should I put my life on the line for you, much less for the Spymaster of Kirkwall?”

“The Spymaster of Kirkwall? That’s a new one. I like it. Definitely a change of pace for Varric to get a nickname. He’ll want to hear that one from you, so now you have to come.”

“This is crazy. You’re all mad.”

“Of course we’re mad, dearheart. All the best people are,” Isabela crooned. Taran snorted at that and relaxed her stance for the second time that day.

“You’ll have to lose the horses. They won’t be able to go where we’ll be going.” Taran turned on her heel and gathered up her things. Marissa saw the angry tightness in the elf’s shoulders and was sorry for it, but not sorry enough that she was willing to forgo the aid Taran had grudgingly offered to them. 

Marissa gathered up her own things and walked over to where Sebastian stood with their horse. He was running a hand down the horse’s face as he bent his head forward. With the exception of his hand stroking the horse’s face he was incredibly still, almost statue-like. Sunlight filtered through the trees and caught his hair, making the lighter shades glow amongst the darker ones. Sensing her, he raised his head and Marissa felt her breath catch in her chest as his eyes met hers. 

_This is ridiculous_ , she thought. _I've barely known this man three days._

Shaking it off, she stepped forward, letting her pack hang by her side as she reached up and cautiously touched the horse’s head just behind the ear. Its hide was warm under her hand and she could feel an aura of calmness emanating from it. Funny now that she wasn't so scared of it she could feel just how peaceful the creature was. She stroked her fingers down the horse’s mane, letting the hair slide between her fingers.

Its ears twitched before it shook its head, the sudden movement causing her to jerk her hand back. Sebastian took her hand and placed it back on the horse’s face, this time just below its ear, his fingers interlaced with hers.

“Don’t be afraid. She’s just being a little antsy, picking up on all the tension.” 

“She fine with darkspawn but gets skittish around a people arguing? That doesn't make sense.”

“Darkspawn, for the most part, are predictable. People are not,” he said simply and she found that she couldn’t argue with that. She stared at their hands, studying the contrasts between the two. His were large and tanned while hers was darker yet delicate looking, almost graceful, but just as strong. 

“I’m sorry that we have to leave the horses,” she said softly. “I know they mean a lot to you.”

“Thank you. I’m hoping we’ll come across a farm or something where we can leave them. If not, well, they’ll make their own way. They are Starkhaven horses after all.”

“Is that hubris I hear coming from your mouth, Sebastian?”

“Not hubris, no, just a simple truth.” His fingers curled further around hers and pulled them away from the horse. Marissa forced herself to meet his eyes and was able to do so only briefly. A person’s eyes revealed too much of themselves and she wasn't prepared for the brief glimpse of what she saw in his. Nor did she want him to see into hers; especially as she didn’t know what they would reveal. 

“We should go.”

“Yes.”

“We don’t know how long it will take to get to Kirkwall and I don’t want to spend another night outside if it can be helped.”

“Of course.”

Marissa extracted her hand but not before she felt a slight tightening of Sebastian’s fingers around hers. Turning away quickly she hoped that her face wasn't as flushed as it felt. She heard him walk away as she tied her pack to the back of the saddle and let out the breath she had been holding rush out of her lungs. Perhaps it was a good thing they were soon going to have to leave the horses behind. She didn’t know if she could handle being so close to him for extended periods of time. At least not until she was able to get her hormones under control.

“We’re going to have to go at a slower pace than a trot. I can’t just conjure a horse out of my ass you know.”

Taran’s sarcastic remark was just what she needed to cut through whatever it was she was feeling. Marissa slowly exhaled as she felt her skin cool. Maybe she could walk as well. It would do her good to walk on her feet for a while.

XXXXXX

As it turned out they were able to find a small farmstead not too far from Kirkwall where they could lodge the horses. The farmer had been reluctant at first but quickly acquiesced when Sebastian handed over a small pouch. Marissa had to suppress a laugh when the farmer’s eyes bulged and his head bobbed vigorously in response to Sebastian’s instructions.

“Just how much coin did you give him?” Isabela demanded as she hopped off the wooden fence she had been sitting on.

“Enough.”

“Define enough.”

“Enough for him to take care of both the horses and to tell anyone who might be curious how the poor beasties had just shown up one day without their owners. It’s dangerous country out here after all; any number of ills could have happened to those poor souls. May the Maker take mercy on them.”

“Did you just--? Choir Boy, did you just _bribe_ that farmer?”

“I suppose you could put it that way,” he responded as he left the farmyard, leaving the rest of them behind.

Now Marissa did laugh. She couldn’t help it; the incredulous look on Isabela’s face was too much. The dark glare she received from Isabela only made her laugh harder. Even Fenris was laughing while Taran just stood there with the dour expression on her face she had worn since they left the clearing. For some reason that made everything even funnier.

“Shut it you two. It’s not that funny.”

“I’m afraid it is, Isabela. If you could only see your face right now, you’d be laughing too.” Marissa picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulder and trotted to catch up with Sebastian.

“So, just how much _did_ you give him?”

“More than I probably should have but it was worth it knowing that they’ll be well taken care of.”

“I’m sure that putting that look on Isabela’s face didn’t hurt either.”

“No, it certainly did not.” His grin spread across his face and Marissa couldn’t help but smile back.

“If you two are done grinning like a couple of idiots, we need to get going. I want to get there before dark.” Taran’s voice cut in. The mage was leaning on her staff, scowling at the rest of them. “Come on. It’s this way.”

Spinning on her heel, Taran marched off into the brush, heading away from the coast. Marissa could see The Waking Sea off in the distance and the dozens of fishing huts that lined the coast. Salty air wafted inland, brought forth by the wind that had suddenly kicked up. It was going to rain soon, she realized. All the more reason to hurry.

They continued following Taran, the day waning as the sun sank toward the western horizon. The terrain had turned into a sort of rocky bog. A rocky path wound its way through stagnant pools of water that stunk like rotten fish. Marissa hoped they got to wherever they were going soon. She didn’t think she could take the smell much longer.

“Maker’s balls.”

“Yeah, the smell keeps most people away. I've only ever seen one patrol of Templars come here, and even then they kept a distance. Good thing too, otherwise they’d know about this.”

“Know about what? All I see is rock and these pools of I don’t know what.”

“You’ll see,” was all that Taran said before she continued forward. Marissa tried to keep her eyes on her and keep her feet out of the pools of muck, but it made for slow going. Her heel slipped off the edge when she took her next step and it was Sebastian’s quick reflexes that kept her from falling in. Marissa blew her bangs out of her eyes as she thanked him. Regaining her footing, she looked up to look for Taran only to find the elf gone.

“Maker’s balls, where did she go?”

“Dammit, I knew she would do something like this. Lead us out into nowhere and abandon us.” Isabela kicked at a rock, scowling as it skipped and sunk into one of the nearby pools. The rock tore a hole in the green scum that covered the brackish water, sending out ripples to the edge of the pool.

“Such little faith. I told you I would get you into the city. I don’t break my promises.” Taran appeared just as quickly as she had disappeared. The elf was a force mage, and as far as Marissa knew, they didn’t have a cloaking spell, but she could be wrong.

“There’s nothing magical about it. Just a trick of nature is all. Come on, we don’t have much time before the tide comes in.”

Marissa and the others picked their way up the incline to where Taran waited. A brief glance showed nothing out of the ordinary but when she looked closer Marissa could see how the angle of the rocks made it seem like they were a solid wall when in fact there was an opening just big enough for a person to crawl through.

“Is this how you got out?”

“Me and several other mages who were lucky enough to escape the Templars. They found many of our escape routes but this one has so far eluded them. Hopefully it always will.” 

Taran had gotten a far off look in her eyes but quickly shook it off. She turned back to them, a wicked smile lighting her face. “I’m afraid we’re not going to be leaving the smell behind.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Isabela demanded.

“You know that saying how all drains lead to the sea? Well, considered this one of those drains. A big one.”

Marissa took a step forward and nearly gagged on the smell. “This isn't a drain, it’s the outlet of Kirkwall’s sewer. Well that’s just brilliant isn't it? No wonder the Templar’s never found it.”

“Here, you’re going to need these. They’re infused with lavender, peppermint, and elfroot. It’ll make sure you won’t vomit the whole way.”

“Elfroot? I don’t know that’s such a good idea.”

Taran glanced at Marissa, her brow scrunching in confusion. “You would rather vomit and pass out? Trust me, this is a much better alternative.”

“Can’t you just, I don’t know, create a barrier or something to keep the smell out?”

“Sure, if I wanted to suffocate you. Barriers keep out projectiles, not air. What’s the problem?”

Marissa frowned down at the mask Taran had given her. Vomit and pass out from the smell of shit and Maker knew what else, or vomit and pass out from elfroot. Either way she was screwed. 

“How strong is the mixture?”

“Not very. Just enough to keep a person from passing out. Somebody want to clue me in?”

“Elfroot and I don’t exactly get along very well.”

Taran just stared at her, disbelief covering her face before she started laughing. “You have got to be kidding me. Less than one in twenty have a bad reaction to elfroot and you just happen to be one of them? This is hysterical.”

“Yes, the whole thing’s just hilarious. Just a laugh a minute. You won’t be laughing so hard when you have to pick up my unconscious body and haul me through the sewers.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic. You’ll be fine. The mixture’s mild enough for infants. Besides, if anyone’s going to carry you through the sewer it’ll be the would-be prince there. Doubt he’d let anyone else do it.”

Marissa stiffened at the mage’s comment. Not only for the dig at Sebastian’s station but at the implication of a relationship between them. She couldn’t deny that there was something there but she didn’t like others speculating on it, and judging by the dark looks on her companions’ faces, neither did they.

“Let’s just go. If I pass out, I pass out.” Marissa pulled on the mask and took as shallow breaths as possible. The tingle of peppermint hit her nose first, followed quickly by lavender, but no hint of elfroot. She waited for the dizziness to hit her and when it didn’t, it was strangely anticlimactic. Still, she walked carefully and kept her steps small. 

“Alrighty, this way. Oh, and no torches. The smallest spark might set off any gas pockets we run into.”

“This just keeps getting better and better. How are we supposed to see where we’re going?” Isabela growled, clearly liking this plan less and less.

“Well, that one and I have our super elvhen sight, so we’ll be fine, but I suppose you shemlen will need some type of visual aid.” Taran dug into her satchel, rummaging around in it before pulling out three mid-sized jars. She handed one to her and then one to Sebastian and Isabela. Marissa brought the jar up to her face to see what it contained. It was with considerable restraint that she didn’t recoil from the jar. Whatever was in the jar glowed… and _moved_.

“Andraste’s tits, what level of the Void did you pull these out of?”

“Cute, aren't they? First found them when I was scrounging around Sundermount in one of the deeper caves. They’ll serve our purposes just fine. Now are we done screwing around? I thought we were in a hurry?”

Marissa glanced at Sebastian and Isabela. Skepticism filled both of their faces. She could only shrug. It’s not like they had any other choice but to go forward. She only hoped that they wouldn't have to be in the sewers very long.

XXXXX

Even with Taran’s masks the smell was eye watering. Marissa hazard a guess that they had been travelling for about an hour. The path zigzagged all over the place until she lost all sense of direction. Her jar of glowworms, for lack of a better name, lit the path well enough but not enough for her to feel comfortable. She had maybe a three foot radius of the eerie blue-green light around her, enough to see most potholes and avoid stepping into them but if anything attacked them down here they were pretty much fucked.

The group kept close to each other; the combined light of the three jars keeping the shadows at bay. They didn’t talk much as they moved forward, the silence periodically broken by Taran’s directions and the soft plinking of water hitting rock. Marissa had to force her breath to remain steady even as the tunnel reminded her of the one she had used to escape Highever. That one had been considerably less smelly but it was just as dark and back then she hadn’t had anything to light her way.

“How much longer till we get to wherever we’re going? Actually, a better question is exactly _where_ are we going. Just where is this tunnel going to let out?” Isabela’s voice echoed off the walls even though she kept it soft. Whatever rock comprised the walls of the tunnels reflected sound like a mirror reflected light and made Marissa wish for her soft-padded boots. She had used them whenever stealth was necessary for whatever job she was working and had served her purposes well, but with as wet and slimy as the tunnel floor was she was grateful for the much sturdier boots she was currently wearing. 

“It’s not much farther. And don’t worry, nobody will see us where this turns out. We wouldn't have been able to keep it a secret for so long if everyone knew where the entrance was. Only a few people know where it is and that number is drastically reduced now.” Taran spoke over her shoulder as she kept moving forward. Marissa heard the underlying anger laced with the flat tone Taran spoke in and made an educated guess.

“You’re the only one left aren't you? That’s why you were alone out there.”

Taran ignored her question and kept moving forward. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

Marissa decided not to press the issue. Besides, she could tell the whatever potion Taran had laced the masks with was starting to wear off as the stench of shit grew stronger. She’d rather not inhale that more than she had too, her eyes were already watering enough from the fumes.

The stream of Maker knew what they were walking through grew deeper and fouler. The smell was similar to a shriek’s but their customary wail was absent. Marissa almost wished it was a shriek, a whole group of them. That would be preferable to wading through Kirkwall’s waste.

They rounded a corner and came up against a dead end. Or a mostly dead end. The tunnel had widened into a larger room. Five holes maybe three feet round lined the room, each spewing watery refuse into the larger tunnel. Marissa’s stomach churned as she suspected what their next step was going to be. She turned toward Taran and pinned her with a hard stare.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

“What? You wanted to know how I got out of the city without being seen. This is it. Nobody cares where the shit goes as long as they don’t see it.”

“Yeah, tell that to Darktown. There’s plenty of shit there.”

“I didn’t say this was Darktown’s shit.”

“Then whose shit is it?”

“Kirkwall’s.”

“Well that’s just maddeningly unhelpful. Where do these lead?” Marissa could feel the threads of her temper fraying. The anxiety emanating from Isabela’s wasn't helping. She could feel her friend’s need to keep going and the increasing worry she held about Varric’s condition.They had no idea of what he was going through and with what little information they had it was easy to imagine the worst.

“Honestly? I have no idea. Probably to Hightown, but we’re not going there.” Taran paused and looked back at them. “What? You didn’t actually think that we were going to crawl through those holes did you? That’s disgusting.”

“We hit disgusting about an hour ago.” Isabela stepped forward, inspecting the walls. “So if we’re not going to crawl through what can literally be called shit holes, just how are we getting out of here. There must be a secret door.”

“Gold star for the pirate.” Taran moved to the far left hole and stuck her arm in. It swallowed her up to her shoulder as she reached in. Marissa stepped back, not knowing what to expect, and backed up into Sebastian. He steadied her by grabbing onto her shoulders before slowly letting go, his hands lingering on her arms. In the near dark of the tunnel she couldn’t quite make his face out. Between the mask and the light from the glow worms she was unable to see the expression on his face and she didn’t like it. The man was enough of a mystery when she could see him and she didn’t like being in the dark, both literally and figuratively in his case. It was exhausting.

A soft click sounded in the room followed by the tingle of magic in the air. Marissa turned her attention back to Taran and watched as the hole she had stuck her arm in grew larger, expanding until it was nearly five feet tall. The stench of shit coming from it was slightly less but still there. Marissa looked doubtfully at it, then back at Taran, who then rolled her eyes.

“Come on. Let’s go. Another twenty minutes and we’ll be out of here.”

“You never did answer my question. Where does this lead?”

“To Darktown. Now shut up. These walls aren't as thick as the lower tunnels.”

With no choice but to follow, Marissa and the others stepped into the gateway Taran had opened. As they moved further in the door behind them shrunk back to its original size, leaving them no alternative but to continue. 

The air grew distinctly less foul as they journeyed, the walls becoming smoother and obviously man made but still rough hewn enough to scrape several layers of skin off if one wasn't careful. A set of stairs came into view. They were roughly carved out of the rock and led up steeply into the dark, obviously not of dwarven make. More like the construction made by a desperate person. Or people. Mages in Kirkwall, in Thedas would qualify.

Marissa tried to tread as lightly as she could as they ascended. Taran was right when she had said the walls here were thinner. If she listened carefully she could hear the soft murmur of people’s voices. She couldn’t make out anything but it was enough to know that they were close to reaching their destination. Wherever that was.

The stairs took a sharp dogleg to the right as the ground leveled out into a small landing. A wooden ladder was bolted to the far wall, leading up to a wooden hatch that was set into the ceiling.

“Wait here. I have to disarm the traps.”

“Traps? As in plural?”

“Well, yes. You didn’t expect us to just let anyone be able to access the tunnel, did you?” Taran climbed up the ladder and pressed her hand against the wood. A soft blue light glowed briefly before disappearing. Opening the latch, Taran looked down at them. “Come on then, not much farther.”

Marissa let Isabela and Fenris go ahead of her, chewing her lip as they ascended the ladder. She’d give anything to know where they were heading. She didn’t like going in blind.

“After you, my lady.”

Marissa looked up to see Sebastian looking down at her. The mask hid most of his face but not his eyes. If a girl wasn't careful she could lose herself in those eyes. Focusing on being annoyed, she stepped away and started climbing the ladder.

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Whatever response he had was muffled by one of the rungs snapping. Marissa lost her hold and managed to arrest her fall by wildly grabbing onto a lower rung. 

“Marissa! Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. But I’ll be lodging a complaint with the builder. They obviously used sub-par materials.”

“Obviously. Can we still get up?”

“Sure,” Marissa ground out as she struggled to climb over the gap. It was a good thing she was pretty damn nimble. “Just, just watch your step. Who knows if the others will hold.”

Upon reaching the top, Marissa climbed over the edge and peered down into the hole. Sebastian wasn't too far behind her. She reached down and offered her hand to him, helping to pull him up as he reached the top. As they stood she found that they were entirely way too close to each other with nowhere to go. 

“Oh, yeah. Forgot to tell you that it’s going to be a bit of a tight fit from here on out,” Taran whispered. “Try not to talk if you can help it.”

Marissa stepped back carefully and turned around to find herself in a tight corridor. The rock wall continued on one side but a wooden wall stood to their left. Faint light filtered through the cracks but not enough to really light their way.

“You can take off those masks if you want. It’s still going to stink like shit but not to the point where you’ll pass out.”

The words were barely out of Taran’s mouth before Marissa pulled off her mask. The elf was right in that it didn’t smell any better but at least she didn’t have to breath through that damned mask anymore.

Their path twisted at odd angles as they moved forward. Marissa was pretty sure they were somewhere in Darktown but she couldn’t be sure. Normally the smell alone would tell her, but her nose had been so desensitized over the past three hours that she could probably stick her head up a dead blight wolf’s ass and not smell anything.

It was at least another twenty minutes of twists and turns before they finally came to another door. By this time Isabela was visibly shaking, her need for movement and action bleeding off into everyone else. Fenris was only slightly better, rolling on the balls of his feet and prepping for an attack.

Again Taran laid her hand against the door. Marissa watched as something blue sparked and she heard a distant click and rumbling as gears started to move. The door swung inward, allowing them passage. Crossing the threshold Marissa felt a vast room around her but couldn’t see much beyond the three foot radius her jar of glow worms allowed her. 

“Everyone just stand still while I get some light in here.” Taran moved around them like a person who was intimately familiar with her surroundings. Marissa heard Fenris swear in Tevinter just before light flooded into the room.

Blinking away the spots in front of her eyes, Marissa looked over the room. The space was dusty and in a terminal stage of disrepair. Several cots took up space against one wall while a crafting table sat not too far away with dusty bottles and spider webs covering the entire surface. The room looked as if no one had been here in several months if not more.

“Oh Andraste’s _ass_. This is where the entrance to your escape tunnel is? Of all the places in Kirkwall it just _had_ to be this place.”

A murderous glare rose on Isabela’s face but it was nothing compared to the one that Sebastian wore. The man looked as if he wanted to tear something apart or beat his fists into something and he didn’t care which.

“Hey, you wanted to get into the city undetected and I got you in. Are you really going to complain about the method? If it helps any, this exit is at least thirty years old, if not more. It was here long before your friend was here.”

“He was _not_ my friend. He was a murderer and betrayed everything Hawke tried to do. He deserved to die for what he had done. He _should_ have died.”

“Sebastian!” 

“You weren't there Marissa. You didn’t see the look on his face when the Chantry exploded. All those people dead and all he could say was that his hand was forced, that he did it because there could be no compromise. He rejoiced in the death of _hundreds_. What he did, what he did was unforgivable, not even the Maker would forgive such an action.”

Everyone in the room went silent at Sebastian’s outburst but only Marissa saw the rage and pain in his face. She stood silently before him and let him vent his rage, using silence as a defense as he was obviously incapable of reason at the moment. 

“His actions have led to only more deaths, not change like he wanted. Oh, we got change, we got change in spades. Templars running mad, attacking and killing mages on sight. The Circles are falling, the Chantry is in disarray, and all of Thedas is in turmoil. He brought a Blight upon us all.”

Marissa stiffened, no longer able to let him vent. Stepping forward, she let her fist fly, smashing her fist into his face. Sebastian stumbled back and fell over an upturned chair, blood dripping down his face as a shocked expression covered his face. She saw the shock and didn’t care.

“Do not begin to speak of Blights to me, Sebastian Vael. Do not speak of hundreds dying when I saw _thousands_ die. Do not speak to me of ruin until you have seen a land burnt and made infertile for the next hundred generations. You sat safe here in Kirkwall while Ferelden rotted from beneath her. You haven’t seen death until you’ve seen the darkspawn horde descending upon the only home you have left and doing its very best to kill everything in its path.”

Marissa’s chest was heaving by the time she finished. There was more to say but she forced it back down into the hole she kept it in. She wanted to hit him again for the astonished look he still wore, but instead she backed away. Her knuckles ached and were probably bleeding themselves but she didn’t care. 

“I’m going to see if there’s any sort of water pump around here and hope that it still works. You can go fuck yourself.”

Marissa stepped around Sebastian and moved past the others. She caught the sympathetic look from Isabela but ignored it. Right now she wasn't in the mood for sympathy. Right now she was in the mood to beat the shit out of something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A great many thanks to garafthel (Sister_Wolf) for being a most excellent beta!
> 
> Translation:  
> Agaryulnaerea: blood-suckers
> 
> (I had to improvise with Dalish insults as the Wiki didn't provide what I needed so...)


	6. Chapter 6

“I see you still have a special talent for pissing people off Sebastian.”

“I’m entitled to my anger, Isabela,” Sebastian said as he stood, wiping the blood from his face. Maker, his face felt numb. He wondered who had taught her to punch like that as he looked to the back of the clinic to where Marissa had disappeared to.

“Uh huh. I don’t think so, Sebastian. The last thing she needs is to see you right now. You leave her alone,” Isabela paused, her eyes narrowing. “In fact, I’d be happy if you just left. Now.”

“I’m not leaving Isabela. I vowed to find Varric and I’m not leaving until I do.”

“You make a lot of vows, Choir Boy. How many of those have you actually kept?”

Furious, Sebastian stepped forward only to find a dagger pointed at his throat.

“Oh, please do, Sebastian. Please,” Isabela cooed, her voice like poisoned honey.

“Wow, you guys sure do know how to throw a party. This has been fun but I’m going to take this as my cue to leave. Have fun on your suicide mission, I’m going to go find myself a nice little island in the sun.”

As one, Isabela and Sebastian turned to Taran. Fenris stepped up as well. Taran looked at each, her features twisted in frustration.

“What more do you people want from me? You wanted a way into the city, I gave it to you. I don’t owe you anything more. I didn’t owe you anything before.”

“Oh, sweet thing, but you are going to stay. You have more recent knowledge of what’s going on here, where the Seekers have searched, who they've questioned. That’s information I’m not going to let go of lightly.”

“You make it sound as if I’m in league with the Seekers. I can assure you that I am not. I want nothing more than to quit this place.” Taran scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what more you think I can tell you. I have nothing more to offer you. And it’s not like I can go out and investigate for you. Mages aren't exactly inconspicuous you know.”

“You would be if you didn’t wear those ridiculous robes and advertise yourselves with staffs.” Isabela paused. “Although, your staff doesn't look like a typical mage’s staff.”

“That’s by design, you idiot. You think I don’t know that our staffs make us stand out? I got this baby from Xenon. He owed me a favor.”

Isabela arched an eyebrow. “And just what type of favor would Xenon the Antiquarian owe a mage?”

“The most special kind and I’m not about to talk about it with you lot.”

“This is getting us nowhere. This woman isn't going to help us. We’ll have to search the city ourselves.”

“And just how do you propose that we do that, huh, Choir Boy? Our faces are well known in Kirkwall. And you can bet your sweet ass that there will be at least one person out there who wouldn't hesitate to point the Seekers in our direction.”

“I was here just a few weeks ago and no one turned me in. Apparently shedding myself of my previous armor helped to make me anonymous.”

“You must have kept your mouth shut and face shrouded then, because neither are what I would described as forgettable, sweetie.”

“I do know how to be discrete, unlike others.”

“If that’s supposed to be a dig, Choir Boy, it falls far from the mark. A little bit of style goes a long way.”

“It can also get you killed. Isabela, he is right. You and I… we aren't what you would call subtle.” 

Fenris’s voice was a low grumble that reverberated to the back room where Marissa had sequestered herself. She had found a working water pump. The grey water it spewed out smelled little better than she did herself but it was something. The water took a greenish-brown hue as she plunged her hands into the water. Her breath hissed out of her as the icy water wrapped around her skin. She hadn’t expected it to be so cold but it served its purpose as she washed the grime away.

Her companions’ voices carried back to where she was, the tone sharp and angry, but at the moment she couldn’t be bothered to care. She knew she should but her anger at Sebastian had temporarily sapped her ability to engage in the conversation. Isabela had warned her that the royal archer let his emotions speak before his brain but in all honesty Marissa had thought that her friend was exaggerating. 

Her right hand ached something fierce, but despite her raw knuckles, she couldn’t find it within herself to regret hitting Sebastian. It had been a while since she had hit somebody out of anger. She didn’t even really remember swinging, but she did remember the astonished look on Sebastian’s face. Marissa was willing to bet that not many people dared to strike out at him. He may not be ruling Starkhaven, but his royal upbringing still lived within him.

Taking a deep breath, she plunged her head into the bucket, scrubbing her face and hair to get as much of the filth off of her that she could. It was like pissing on a forest fire, but it was something.

Images of her last few months in Ferelden flashed through her mind. Denerim with its streets teeming with people. The smell of its back alleys. The soldiers roaming the streets in a vain attempt to keep the city’s bandits at bay. The Templars barring entrance to the Chantry because of all the funerals that were being held. Fort Drakon looming over the city, its dark tower not the beacon of hope and strength that its builders had intended. 

Arl Howe’s dungeon....

Nearly out of breath, Marissa pulled her head out of the bucket, blinking away the rivulets of water that streamed down her face. If she let herself, she could all too easily fall into the memory of that place. She forced it down, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat.

Marissa suffered from many nightmares of the life she had before she came to the Free Marches and Howe’s dungeon featured high on the list. Just below her last night in Highever and slightly above the darkspawn horde attack on first Denerim and then on Amaranthine eight months later.

It seemed like no matter where she went there was war and blood and suffering. Would it never end?

The voices in the other room grew louder, angrier. Sighing, Marissa looked around for something to wipe her face with but only found moldy sheets of questionable origin. Running her fingers briskly through her hair, she took a deep breath and decided that would have to suffice.

“I’m telling you now mage, you’re not going anywhere.”

“And I’m telling you, _pirate_ , you can’t make me stay. Just one flick of my wrist and you’re all unconscious for at least an hour.”

“You really want to risk using your magic down here? Darktown is full of thieves and unsavory types who would sell their ball sack if they thought they could get coin for it.”

“How colorful,” Taran sneered. “Darktown is also full of people who would just as soon never see the shadow of the City Guard, much less anyone that has anything to do with the Chantry or the Templars.”

Marissa walked through the doorway and saw her four companions facing off. Isabela had her daggers drawn and looked more than eager to use them. Fenris stood at her side, his great sword still sheathed on his back but she knew he could unsheath it and run through an enemy before they had time to blink. Sebastian stood slightly off to the left, his posture stiff. Apparently he still had that self-righteous stick rammed up his ass.

Taran stood before them, her chin thrust forward in stubborn determination. The mage was right. With a flick of her wrist she could incapacitate all of them. Why she hadn’t yet was the question.

“Let her go. She’s done what she promised. We have no right to keep her here.”

The group turned as one toward her with varying stages of astonishment on their faces. She purposely avoided Sebastian’s eyes as she entered the room but could feel him watching her every move. His gaze caused her to shiver more than the icy water that trickled down her spine.

“We’re not kidnappers, Isabela. Nor are we jailers. She’s been gone from the city, what, three, maybe four days? I don’t see what keeping her here will gain us.” Marissa slid her gaze to Taran, who gave her a sharp nod of agreement, confirming her assessment.

“A lot can happen in three days.”

“While that’s true Isabela, I think between the four of us we can suss out what’s going on. She’s already told us that Varric’s most likely being held in the Amell estate, I don’t think it will be hard to confirm that. We both have enough contacts in the city to get a confirmation.”

“But what if she tells someone that we’re here. We’ll end up in custody and be in no position to help break Varric out.” 

“And what if the sky tears open and demons fall out? There’s such as thing as being prepared and then there’s paranoia. It’s a waste of our time and resources to keep her here.”

Silence filled the room after that. Sounds from Darktown filtered into the former clinic; not enough to make out any words but enough to know that people of all sorts still filled the streets and hovels. Marissa knew a good few of those people and any one of them would help her out if she asked.

“Taran, we won’t force you to stay but I’d like you to. I think you’d make a strong addition to our group. I have a feeling that our little adventure here isn't going to end with finding Varric and that we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“All the more reason for me to leave. This city has given me enough excitement to last three lifetimes. I’m in no hurry to add to that.”

Marissa sighed, pushing her bangs out of her eyes, absentmindedly thinking that she’d have to take a scissors to them again. “Taran, you don’t honestly think that the troubles here in Kirkwall are going to stay here? They've already spread. Thedas is falling apart. People will need to join together in order to survive. Trust me, I know a little about that.”

Marissa waited for Taran’s response. She saw the indecision flicker over the elf’s face; not so much as torn between the decision of whether to stay or to go, but more not knowing what to do. Neither option offered the safety Taran was looking for but Marissa hoped that she realized that it was easier to watch your back when someone had yours.

“Being around you people is dangerous and I don’t see that changing.”

“I didn’t say that staying would be safe, just safer.”

“Semantics. Listen, I appreciate the offer but this city makes my skin crawl and I’d rather leave sooner than later. I've helped you as much as I can.”

“I still think we should make her stay.”

“If we did that, it would make us no better than the Templars. I don’t know about you Isabela, but I’d rather avoid even the loosest association with them.” Turning back to Taran, she said, “You’d better go. If you hurry you can make it back to where we met.”

“I think I’ll take a different direction, if it’s all the same. I left a couple of Templar bodies out there; probably not the best idea for me to be anywhere near them when they’re found.”

“Good point. Stay safe, Taran.”

The elf snorted as she gathered up her things. “This is Thedas, Marissa. As you said nowhere is safe, but anywhere is better than here,” she paused before the secret door. “ _Dareth shiral_ , Marissa. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

They were quiet as Taran disappeared through the opening, a soft blue light seeping through the wood as she locked it behind her. 

“Well, now what?” Isabela asked after a couple minutes of silence. “You know Marissa, Hawke also had a bad habit of letting go people he shouldn’t have and it ended up biting him in the ass. I just hope we don’t regret this.”

“If you have a problem with it, you can leave too. No one is keeping you here.”

“Now wait just a damn minute--.”

“I think we all need to take a moment here and breathe. We've been on the road for two days and just crawled through a mile or more of Kirkwall’s filth. I think we need to rest and regroup. We need to come up with a plan for what to do next; we can’t be hasty here.” It was surreal hearing the voice of reason coming from Fenris, so much so that Marissa wasn't sure what to think of it.

“He has a point, Isabela,” Marissa said. “We should try to get some of the stink off of us. People in Darktown might not mind the smell but those in Lowtown and Hightown certainly will. There’s a working water pump in the back. Water’s not exactly clean but it’s something.”

“I call first dibs. Come on Fenris, we can wash each other’s back.” Isabela tossed her hair over her shoulder, letting whatever ire she had been feeling slide off her, causing Marissa to breathe a sigh of relief. She didn’t like being at odds with her friends. There was already enough turmoil in Thedas without adding to it.

The thump of a pack hitting the floor jolted her out of her musings. Marissa glanced over to see Sebastian removing his gloves and loosening his hauberk, his eyes pinned on her. His lip was split and swollen from where she had hit him.

“I’m not apologizing for that. You were out of line.”

Sebastian sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. While he had a certain amount of right on his hands, he had let his emotions take over him again and he wasn't pleased with himself. He had never thought of himself as a selfish person, one only concerned with his own needs and feelings but the last few years had shown him differently. It was a lesson he had thought he had learned. If his actions today were any indication he still had a ways to go.

“I spoke rashly and I do apologize for that. I just, I just got so caught up in those memories. I've always had some trouble keeping my temper and emotions under control. It was one of the many reasons my parents had sent me to the Chantry all those years ago.”

“It seems to me that the Chantry was not completely successful in that endeavor."

“It did help to temper me a bit. I'm not the wild youth I once was but there are still times when my emotions and temper get the best of me. The memory of the Chantry exploding, all those lives lost... It is not easy.” Sebastian’s hands clenched into fists before he forced himself to relax. Her face just after she had hit him floated in his memory. The ragged pain that had filled it burned a hole in him. Not for the first time he wondered what had happened to her in Ferelden.

“Marissa, what happened--.”

“No, there’s nothing to talk about.”

Translation, Sebastian thought, she didn’t want to talk about it. He thought briefly about coaxing it out of her but thought better of it. She would tell him when she was ready. At least, he hoped so. It bothered him, this connection he felt between them. It had sprung up so fast and had wrapped its vine-like fingers around him, leaving him no chance but to stick by her.

Looking over at her, he watched as she unbuckled her armor and let his eyes follow a rivulet of water that snaked down her neck and under her collar. His mouth went dry as he imagined tracing that line down her throat with his finger, his tongue. It surprised and frightened him just how much he wanted her. Ashamed, he turned away. She deserved better than the lurid thoughts that coursed through his head. 

_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure._

“What are you mumbling over there?”

Startled, Sebastian cleared his throat. He hadn’t realized he had spoke a verse from the Canticle of Trials aloud. He had to get a handle on this, whatever this was. And soon.

"Ah, it is nothing. I was just talking to myself."

Marissa spared him a glance as she removed the pouch belt and sat down on a hard bench. She wished she was brave enough to remove her boots but the idea of putting her bare feet on this floor was... unappetizing. 

“I've been thinking. We should scout around tonight. People who know what’s going on in Kirkwall are more likely to be up and about now. The Hanged Man would be a good start. The docks too.”

“That’s a dangerous proposal. Bandits and other less savory types claim the night as their playground.”

“Which is exactly why we should go out now. I know of a couple people who could have some information. If they’re still around that is.”

“It’s of interest to me how you would know such people.”

“Well, Sebastian, you’ll just have to live with your curiosity. I don’t know you well enough to share my life story.”

“And just how are we to get to know each other if we don’t exchange information?”

Marissa gave him a flat stare, not sure what to make of him. There was no doubt that Sebastian Vael was a complicated man and he wasn't exactly an unknown quantity in Kirkwall. Hawke and his companions had been the favorite topic of conversation in Kirkwall over the past ten years. It didn’t matter if you were in Hightown, Lowtown, or Darktown, everyone knew of them and spread stories of their exploits. Marissa wasn't sure how much of it was real and how much was exaggerated, but there was enough truth behind those stories for the citizens of Kirkwall to erect a statue of Hawke after he saved Kirkwall from the Qunari. 

Yes, she had heard many stories about Hawke’s companions, Sebastian included, so it was safe to say that she knew more about him than he knew about her and for the moment she preferred it that way. What he didn’t know couldn’t be used against her. She had been on her own long enough to know that information was priceless and the most dangerous force in all the world. The wrong word dropped in the right person’s ear could topple a nation; mere whispers could discredit a good man no matter how honorable he was; and rumor and myth could mobilize armies to march across the land searching for something that most likely didn’t exist.

“Anyway,” she continued, ignoring his question, “we should go soon if we want to find some loose tongues.”

“We’re all exhausted, Marissa. Wouldn't it be better to wait until morning?”

“If you need your beauty sleep, Sebastian, you’re welcome to stay. Actually, it might be better if you did; the types I’ll be talking to aren't exactly the friendly sort and don’t much care for strangers.”

“You’re not going out there alone.” Sebastian stood, annoyance filling his entire being. Why did she have to fight him at every turn? He wasn't sure if he had ever met a person more stubborn.

“I’m very capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need a minder.”

Something crashed in the back of the clinic. The wall separating them from the back of the clinic shuddered slightly as something rammed into it. Sebastian spun, reaching for his bow. Marissa sprang at him, pulling him back.

“Are you mad? They’ll not thank you for interrupting. Well, Isabela might, if you join, but Fenris doesn't like to share.”

The blank look Sebastian gave her was priceless, almost as much as the flush of realization that quickly followed. Marissa had to bite her tongue hard to keeping from laughing. 

Her laughter died in her throat as he turned his gaze back to her, his eyes hot with something she didn’t want to name. Marissa realized she was still grasping his arm and dropped back quickly and began to buckle up her armor and replace her daggers. Her brain was whirling from the sheer amount of different emotions she had gone through over the last ten minutes. She was having trouble maintaining her balance and she didn’t like it.

“Tell you what. I’ll go out and scout around, you can stay here and let them know when, uh, when they’re done.”

“Andraste’s ass you’re going out there alone,” he growled as he pulled on his gloves and gathered up his bow.

Marissa blinked at his words. Hearing Sebastian use Andraste’s name in vain beggared belief. Shaking it off, she slid her last blade into place and tugged her gloves on, the realization hitting her that she wasn't going to be able to leave here alone.

“Fine. Tag along. Just don’t get in my way. You and Hawke may have strolled through Darktown from time to time, but I lived down here.” Marching over to the back wall, she pounded her fist against it. “Isabela, Fenris. We’re going to scout out Darktown, probably the docks too. When you two are finished you can take Lowtown. We can meet up at The Hanged Man after we're done.”

“What? Don’t you dare.” Marissa heard scrambling beyond the wall and walked away toward the exit, safe in the knowledge that it would take the pair at least a few minutes to get dressed and armored. More than enough time for them to get out and find those loose tongues. She had one in particular in mind; she just hoped the little bastard was still in town.

“If you’re still intent on tagging along, let’s go.”

“After you, my lady.”

Marissa checked the impulse to swing at him again. _Why_ did he insist on calling her that?

Darktown was much as it was the last time she had seen it, maybe even a bit more blackened. Flimsy lean-tos scattered all over, some held up with only a few nails and some wire. It pained her to see so many living in such squalor. At least the Alienage had an open view of the sky. The closest thing Darktown had to natural light was what little seeped through the narrow spaces between the columns that opened out into the lower docks. 

But there was still life here. A hard life to be sure, but more life than she had ever seen the few times she had entered the Chantry. That place had been sterile. The devout came for services and left quickly afterward, none had lingered. The sisters had outnumbered the flock by three to one. Not the image the Divine would have wanted she was sure.

“May I ask where we are going?”

“To find an old friend. Well, not friend exactly, but close enough. Now shut up and look surly if you can manage it. The less you look like a pampered noble down here the better.”

“I haven’t been a pampered noble in many years, Marissa.”

Ignoring the shiver hearing her name on his lips caused, she pushed forward. “What do you call your years in the Chantry if not pampered? Compared to these people, that is. Vows of chastity and so-called poverty aside, I’m guessing you never went hungry, never had to worry about dying from preventable diseases, or being knived in your sleep for your boots.”

Sebastian looked as if he wanted to argue but was forced to concede, knowing she was right. He kept silent as they made their way through the cramped alleyways of Darktown but his silence by no means diminished his presence. She could feel him like an itch in the middle of her back that she couldn’t quite reach, ever present and annoying.

“Are you going to tell me who we are looking for, or am I to guess?”

“A little pissant of a dwarf but he’s reliable enough. Just don’t buy any of his “goods.” They've been known to cause problems.”

“Well, that’s helpful. A former member of the Carta I assume?”

“More like on the Carta’s most wanted list but he’s slippery enough to evade them. Especially after you and your friends nearly wiped them out. Caused a bit of trouble with the balance of power down here, that did. Hopefully things have evened out since then.”

They rounded a corner and Marissa finally spotted him. It was hard to mistake that shock of red hair and the nearly black eyes that hid beneath his bushy eyebrows. Marissa didn’t know the elf he was haggling with but from the cajoling tone of Galvin’s voice, the elf must be a new customer. The hard part, he always said, was reeling them in. Once you got them hooked, it was easy to keep them.

“What “goods” exactly does this dwarf sell?” Sebastian murmured at her ear. Andraste’s knickers, did he have to stand so close, she thought as she kept her eyes focused on Galvin. One wrong move and the little toad would bolt.

“Depends on what you’re looking for. He’s most resourceful. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t run across him before.”

“Hawke patronized a different, ah, merchant.”

“Ah, you mean that arse-head down by the docks. Yeah, I knew him. He wasn't nearly as discrete as he thought he-- balls, he made us.”

Marissa took off after the dwarf, leaving Sebastian no choice but to chase after them. For a dwarf he was damn quick and he could hear Marissa’s steady stream of curses as they ran after him. Sebastian lost sight of her as she took a shortcut through a stall, sending its occupants diving to the side. 

The crowd parted way as they ran through the back alleyways of Darktown; those not quick enough to move out of the way were shoved violently to the side. Marissa had a guess as to where Galvin was heading and she was damned if she was going to let the little bastard rabbit into the sewers.

She cut through another stall, leaping onto the table and launching herself up over the wall. The roofs she ran across weren't exactly what one would call stable but she knew this place and where its weaknesses were. Grabbing onto a broken pipe that jutted out of the wall, she swung herself forward and let gravity take her down, landing on Galvin and pushing him to the ground. A knife slipped out of her sleeve and she pressed its sharp edge against the side of the dwarf’s neck.

“I’m hurt Galvin. You ran. Is that any way to treat an old friend?”

“Old friend, my arse. You had a blade at my throat the last time we met.”

“Huh, you’re right. It seems your situation has not improved much.” Marissa shifted and dug her knee into the back of the dwarf’s back. Galvin grunted in pain as he flattened fully into the ground.

“Dammit, what do you want? I ain't selling that tainted lyrium anymore, I promise. You were very clear on what would happen if I continued to sell it.”

“I’m happy to hear that you've kept your word, Galvin, but that’s not why I’m here. The Seekers, what do you know about them?”

“Seekers? I have nothing to do with that lot, I swear.”

“I didn’t ask if you had anything to do with them, I asked what you know about them.” Marissa pricked the tip of her blade against his skin, watching as a thin bead of blood bloomed on his neck. “Tell me what you know, you nug-humping bastard. Now.”

“They've been up in Hightown the last few days. Haven’t seen ‘em down here in more than two weeks. Not since they snagged Varric Tethras.”

Marissa leaned forward, her mouth close to his ear. “You’re doing well, Galvin. Don’t stop now, and don’t spare the details.”

“I don’t know much more than that, I swear. Most of us got gone when they came through here. Them that stayed, got interrogated. Nothing near as bad as the Templar raids, mind you, but this lot, they were different.”

“Explain different to me, Galvin.” Marissa heard Sebastian catch up to them, his footsteps scraping against the ground as he came to a stop. She wasn't exactly keen on him seeing her like this, but he had insisted on coming. Well, he was going to get what he paid for.

“They didn’t exactly explain their purpose, just wanted info on the Champion. Didn't say why. People here knew better than to ask. Come on, Marissa, you think I’d lie to you?”

“In a heartbeat if you thought you could get away with it. Word is they've got Varric held up in the Amell estate? That true?”

“Why you so intent on finding him? You didn’t even know the guy.”

“Since when have I explained my motives to the likes of you, Galvin? Answer the question.” She pressed her blade harder against his neck and watched as the blood turned from a trickle to a stream.

“By the stone, yes! He’s there. Now, please, let me go. I ain't got anything else to tell you.”

“How many Seekers, Galvin? How many are there?”

“Marissa--.”

“Shut up, Sebastian. I've got this handled. How many Galvin?”

“Fifteen, maybe twenty. I don’t know. I don’t keep track.”

“Now, that’s a lie, Galvin. You know the route and time of every patrol. Do you really expect me to--. You’re stalling. Maker’s balls, you’re stalling.”

Marissa shoved herself to her feet, sliding the small blade back into place and pulling out her daggers. Sure enough several figures slunk out of the shadows. Some faces she recognized, some she didn’t. 

“Seems you've learned your lesson, Galvin, and got better protection.” Marissa moved her foot and shoved it against Galvin’s throat as he rolled over. The dwarf choked and clawed at her booted foot but couldn’t budge it. “You've all got a choice. Let me finish my conversation with my friend here or walk away with all your limbs attached. I’m indifferent either way.”

“Well, now. That’s a mighty boast for one who’s outnumbered by three to one.”

A figure stepped forward from the group and Marissa had to bite back a stream of obscenities. Of all the people that Galvin could have hired.

“Tobias. Last I heard you were rotting in some cell.”

“Got an early pardon, no thanks to you. It seems there were those who thought my time in the cell was an improper use of my talents and arranged for my release.”

“I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“Yes, you probably should have, love. But you let sentiment cloud your judgement. What was it you said? Oh yes, better for me to suffer for years wasting away in a cell with no sunlight than to have a quick death. That was cruel, even for you.”

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

“No, I suppose you won’t. I see you've made a new friend though. Funny, you always said you worked better alone. A new pet then?”

“Shut up, Tobias.”

“Does your new lover know what you used to do for a living?” At her pursed lips a wide smile spread across Tobias’s face. “Ah, I thought not. Trying to go all respectable are we? That’s sweet.” 

“You always did talk to much.”

“And you, straight to business, as always. Good to know some things never change.” Tobias smacked his hands together, his eyes brightening with anticipation. “Now then, why don’t you let my friend there go. He’s very important to me.”

“A valuable asset you mean.”

Tobias shrugged. “Same difference. What’s it going to be, sweetheart?”

Marissa took in the the group before her. She counted twelve, but if she knew Tobias, and she did, there would be at least another five hidden in the shadows. Shit.

Taking her foot off of Galvin’s neck, she took a step back. Sebastian was at her side, bow at the ready. Anticipation and tension rolled off him, so thick she could almost taste it.

“Just kill them already, Tobias. Quit fucking around.” Galvin stood to one side, his hand at his throat. Blood seeped through his fingers as he groped into his pocket, presumably for a handkerchief. Both Tobias and Marissa turned and stared at him and Marissa watched with no small amount of pleasure as all the color fled from the dwarf’s face. Served the little shit right.

Marissa started to turn back to face Tobias when the air filled with black smoke. A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her through the choking gas and past the thugs. Her eyes watered as she blindly followed Sebastian, hoping that he knew where he was going. She could hear the angry shouts of Tobias and his men behind her and picked up her pace.

Sebastian tossed another smoke bomb behind them as they raced through Darktown. Now that her eyes were clear she could see where they were going, and it wasn't good.

“Wait. Not this way.”

“Keep running.”

“Sebastian, I mean it. We can’t go this way.”

“Shut up and run Marissa.”

With his hand still around her arm she didn’t have much choice but to follow. He pulled her down a narrow alley, one with barely enough space for the two of them to run side by side. The pathway narrowed even further and the path ahead of them seemed to vanish into a flat wall. Just before they reached the end, Sebastian yanked her to the side and through a doorway she hadn’t seen. He pulled her in and slammed the door behind them. The sudden darkness was disorientating and the only thing holding her steady was Sebastian’s grip on her.

“Are you mad? We can’t stay here. Do you even know where _here_ is?”

“Quiet.”

“I’m serious, Sebastian. This is not a good place.”

“Maker’s breath, Marissa. Be quiet. I know where we are.”

“But--.”

Marissa wasn't prepared for it. She should have seen it coming, even in the pitch dark, but suddenly his hands were on her face and his lips crushing down on hers. He wasn't gentle as he leaned in and pressed her against a wall. Her daggers clattered to the ground as she grabbed at his waist and tried to hold on. Underneath the grime and sweat he smelled of leather and earth and it filled her senses as he took her in.

His hands delved into her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her neck. She felt his lips and teeth scraped down her jawline and groaned when he took her earlobe between his teeth and tugged before moving further down her neck. One of his hands snaked down and gripped her thigh, pulling it up to his waist as he leaned in further and bit down on her neck. Her gasp echoed throughout the small room as she grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled his face back up to hers. She may have been late to the party but that didn’t mean she didn’t know how to play.

Heat flushed through her as she claimed his lips for her own, each of them battling for dominance. Her mind spun with every kiss, every touch. Sebastian insistently pulled at her other leg and she obligingly lifted it to wrap around his waist. With both her legs wrapped around him, he pushed in further. Marissa’s eyes rolled into the back of her head at the contact. Maker, when was the last time she had felt like this? Too long. Way too damn long.

_Need, need, need. I need more._

A heavy groan escaped past her lips as she fumbled for the buckles of his armor. If she could just feel his skin, his upon hers, she would be sated.

Sebastian suddenly pulled back. She tried to follow him, but his hands cupped around her face held her in place. He pulled back even further and the sudden loss of his support caused her legs to slip down his until her feet touched to the floor. It wasn't that she couldn’t have held on, but her confusion at his withdrawal allowed gravity to reassert its dominance.

“We can’t,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, but we can’t.”

“That’s not what you said just a minute ago.” Her reply was just as quiet with a touch of hurt behind it. “You were pretty insistent actually.”

She tried to lean into him again, to capture his lips again, but he held her back, gently but firmly. Her eyes had adjusted enough to the dark enough to see the regret in his face and her heart hardened just a little bit.

“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have. It’s just we--.”

“We can’t. Yeah, I heard.” Marissa pushed him back and bent forward to gather up her daggers. Sheathing them sharply, she turned back to him. “Come on then. We need to get out of here. I don’t want to be in the bowels below the Dark Foundry any longer than I have to. This place gives me the creeps.”

“Marissa.”

“No. Let’s just go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to garafthel (Sister_Wolf) for being a most excellent beta!
> 
> Translation:  
>  _Dareth shiral:_ safe journey/farewell


	7. Chapter 7

“Do you really expect me to believe this bullshit?”

“Honestly, Cassandra, I can call you Cassandra, right? I don’t really care what you believe. I’ve told you what I know. If you choose not to believe what I’ve told you, well, there’s not much I can do about that.”

Varric reclined back into the chair he was sitting in as much as he could. It wasn’t the worst chair in Thedas, but after sitting in it for over a week, well, his ass was sore and in dire need of a change of scenery.

“I find it incredible to believe that the Champion had nothing to do with what happened to the Circle here in Kirkwall. To what happened to the Chantry.”

“Like I said, I gave you Hawke’s story. Do with it as you wish.”

The Seeker tapped her fingers on the wooden table. A frown twisting her lips. Varric steepled his fingers under his chin, watching Cassandra as she wrestled with herself. He wondered if he could get an ale, maybe a decent meal. The Seekers hadn’t neglected his needs, but they hadn’t exactly been generous either. Better than the alternative he supposed. The Templars wouldn’t have showed him any hospitality.

“Start over, from the beginning. And no embellishments this time.”

Varric sighed. He liked a good story as much as the next dwarf, but even he had his limits. As entertaining as Hawke’s story was, a little bit of variety went a long way. And he hadn’t embellished Hawke’s story. Much.

“Alright Cassandra, have it your way. Once upon a time, there was a young mage who lived in Lothering…”

XXXXX

The route under the old Dark Foundry was filled with an inky blackness and stank nearly as bad as the sewers they had taken to get into Kirkwall. It was easy lose track of time down here and even easier to get lost. If you weren’t careful you would find yourself walking in circles, making yourself an easy target for whatever evil lurked nearby. So far they had been lucky; she just hoped their luck lasted long enough for them to get out of there.

Marissa was still fuming but she stuffed it down and struggled to maintain an outer appearance of calm. It wasn’t exactly easy. Not with Sebastian keeping in step with her, never more than a foot away from her. Her body still hummed, the memory of his kiss burned into her brain. And damn her if she didn’t want more.

What had come over her? Sure she hadn’t expected the initial onslaught but she should have pushed him away instead of grasping for more. She liked a good romp as much as the next girl, but men like Sebastian Vael… well, it didn’t do to tangle with them in that way. It usually didn’t end well.

Not that he had given her much chance to do anything more than some heavy petting. He had disengaged almost as quickly as he had slammed her against that ramshackled wall. No one had ever been able to kindle that spark of arousal so quickly before and she hated him for it.

“This isn’t the way back to Anders’ clinic.”

“How observant of you. We’re not going back to the clinic.”

“That’s probably wise. Your… friends, are probably searching all of Darktown for us. The Hanged Man then? I assume that’s where Isabela and Fenris will be.”

Marissa slid a glance at him. He wasn’t stupid, she’d give him that. Didn’t mean he wasn’t an idiot though.

The air became slightly less rancid as they slowly their climbed their up through the bowels of the Dark Foundry. She hated this place. Much of the evil that plagued Kirkwall had either stemmed from here or roosted within its walls. It was one of the older parts of the city and, fanciful or not, the blood of the slaves and miners that used to occupy this place when the city was still called Emerius had left a stain. A stain that only seemed to spread as the Ages passed.

“I remember the last time I was here. It’s not… it’s not a happy memory.”

“There are few happy memories of this place, Sebastian. I told you we shouldn’t go this way but you insisted.”

“Your friends didn’t follow us in, did they?”

“They are hardly my friends and that’s beside the point. There were other options.”

“Perhaps, but we’re here now. It is pointless to complain about it.”

“I’m not complaining--. Oh, just shut up. I’m done talking to you.”

“You are cross with me. Marissa, you must--.”

Marissa spun, unable to prevent herself. She wanted to hit him, again, but she reigned the impulse in. “No. I don’t have to ‘must’ anything. You made a move, then changed your mind. Fine. That’s your right; I can’t argue with that, but don’t you dare tell me what to do with my own emotions. I don’t owe you anything.”

“I am sorry Marissa.”

“I’m sure you are. Let’s just get out of here and get to The Hanged Man. I’m tired of being cold and smelling like shit.”

It took a couple of hours to make their way to the upper levels of the Dark Foundry. Silence was their constant companion; it was just easier that way. The absence of conversation did not mean that it was quiet. Whispers floating through the walls while off in the distance she could hear a chittering that she prayed was only rats. She didn’t think she could deal with any Shades or other creatures at the moment. All she wanted was out and to be someplace warm.

And maybe a tankard of ale. Or three.

Something itched on the back of her neck, prickling just at the base of her skull. She tried to shrug it off but it was insistent and she hadn’t survived this long by ignoring a warning sign.

They had entered a large room that had probably been used at one time to sort the rocks mined from the jet stone cliffs that surrounded most of Kirkwall. Marissa didn’t want to guess at what the stained tables had recently been used for.

“Sebastian.”

“Yes. I feel it too.”

“Well, fuck me. I was really hoping we could get out of here and to The Hanged Man without another fight. I love a good fight, but this is getting ridiculous.”

They turned to stand back to back. Whatever she thought of Sebastian right now, he was an excellent fighter with good instincts. He readied his bow as she pulled out her daggers. She hadn’t had a day this busy in quite a while; quite possibly since she left Ferelden. It took every effort to suppress a sigh.

“Think we can make it to the door? We’re almost out of here. I can practically smell the horse piss they call ale at The Hanged Man.”

“I think Norah and Corff might object to your likening their brew to horse piss, Marissa.”

Marissa spun to the right where the quiet voice had emanated from. Shadows filled the corner but she could see the faint outline of a person there. Did there have to be theatrics? She much preferred a straight up fight to monologues.

But. Wait. She knew that voice.

“It’s inadvisable to sneak up on two fighters who are tired, hungry, and pissed off enough not to care who approaches them out of the shadows.”

“Yes, well, it’s difficult to walk through the streets of Kirkwall without doing that. Of course, most aren't as jumpy as you are.”

“I’m not jumpy, it’s simply caution. What are you doing here, Cullen? Don’t you have some mages to roust?” she asked, sheathing her daggers.

Armor creaked as he moved out from the shadows. Cullen’s Templar armor had clearly seen better days. It was haphazardly patched and there were gaps where a blind beggar on his deathbed could sink a knife through. His face was worn and tired. The top part of the cross-guard of his sword was bent and his scabbard was nearly worn through in several places. It would seem that Knight-Captain Cullen had fallen from favor and fallen far.

“I haven’t rousted any mages in quite a while,” he said, he voice still quiet with a soft rasp to it. “The Templars here, they, they have lost their way.”

“Well, having a power-mad, red lyrium-fueled psychopath in charge will do that.”

“I wish I could argue with that. Meredith was always a hard woman but that red lyrium, it brought out the worst in her… and in her Templars.”

“So, you’re what? Haunting the tombs of Kirkwall for your own amusement?”

“I was looking for someone.” Cullen glanced over, his eyes widening as he recognized Sebastian. “This is the last place I would have expected to find you, Prince Vael.”

Sebastian winced. “I’m a prince of nothing. The rule of Starkhaven lies within another’s hands.”

“Last I had heard you were going to retake the seat.”

“Goran still holds Starkhaven,” Sebastian replied curtly, his jaw tightening. Marissa had to tamp down on her curiosity; there were more important issues at hand.

“Who are you looking for, Cullen? There’s not much down here but rats and other disgusting creatures.”

“A mage.”

Marissa arched an eyebrow at the simple reply. “Thought you said you weren't rousting mages.”

“This is different. She, the mage, is important.”

“To whom?” When Cullen remained silent, Marissa narrowed her eyes and tried to discern his meaning. Nothing. The Templar had gotten much better at hiding his emotions over the years. Serving under a paranoid madwoman would do that she supposed. “Fine then. Not really any business of mine." 

“Not unless you’ve seen her.”

“Well, Cullen, there are a great many mages in the Thedas and telling me that the mage is female doesn't really narrow it down much.” Taran’s face flashed in her head and Marissa wondered if this wasn't the reason why the mage had been so eager to stay away from Kirkwall.

Cullen sighed. “I suppose not. It was a longshot coming down here looking for her. I know there’s an exit out of the city in Darktown though, but damn me if I can’t find it.”

Marissa heard Sebastian take in a breath to speak and stepped forward only to grab at her thigh and forced a grimace on her face. It was a cheap diversion but it almost always worked, especially against men who didn’t like to see others, particularly women, in pain. Neither Cullen nor Sebastian disappointed her. Men were so ridiculously predictable sometimes.

“Marissa, are you injured?” Sebastian stepped forward and took her arm in an attempt to support her. It took every effort not to shrug him off. Her feelings of being rejected still too fresh to want his hands on her.

“I’m fine,” she snapped with just enough annoyance to lend credence to her deception. Cullen was a good man, but he was still a Templar and they tended to have blind spots where mages were concerned, and even though she hadn’t known Taran very long, she felt an obligation to the mage. They would have never made it into the city without her and it was very obvious that she was running from something. Marissa had recognized the look in Taran’s eyes when she thought they were going to force her to stay. It was a look she had once worn herself.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. “Must have pulled something when I was chasing down that bastard Galvin.”

“You seemed fine a minute ago.” Marissa heard the thread of suspicion in Sebastian’s voice and could only hope that Cullen didn’t pick up on it. 

“It’s probably just a delayed reaction. Running on all that adrenaline makes you push past the pain. Besides, I got him didn’t I? And we got what we needed.”

“Aye. That you did. Perhaps we should make our way to The Hanged Man before anything else happens.”

“Running over the rooftops, Marissa? I see you’ve continued your rather unconventional method of running people down.”

“It gets the job done and people rarely look up.”

“I suppose so. And what did poor Galvin do to deserve your attention?”

“He didn’t do anything. Not that I know of anyway. He had information I needed. I got it. End of story.”

Cullen studied her with careful eyes. The man had aged since she had last seen him. He looked just as tired as his armor but she knew better than to underestimate him.

“Well, you’ve always had your secrets. It’s interesting though, that you’re skulking around the bowels of The Dark Foundry with the Prince of Starkhaven though.”

“We--.”

“We have similar goals at the moment,” Sebastian interrupted, seeming to get her intention to not betray Taran. “She’s helping me to find some information I need.”

“And she’s very good at uncovering information and secrets that others would rather stay hidden, I’ll give her that. I’m sure she’ll help you find whatever it is you’re looking for Prince Vael.” Cullen straightened his shoulders, seemingly shoring himself up for whatever it was he was doing. “I must take my leave; there’s one other place I need to check before I retire for the night. The Maker watch over you both.”

“And you as well, Knight-Captain,” Sebastian replied.

A wry smile rose on Cullen’s lips, the sadness in his eyes deepening. “I no longer hold any station with the Templars. I guess you could say I follow a separate path now. Farewell.”

Marissa watched as Cullen walked to the stairs and descended into the lower levels. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that he wouldn't find Taran down there, if indeed that was who he was looking for, but she held back. Cullen had the look of a man who needed to find his answers on his own.

“He looks so sad.”

“When one loses their purpose in life, it’s hard not to let sadness in.”

“I guess,” she said, then realizing that he was still holding on to her, she stepped back. She slowly released the tight breath that had gathered in her chest. Stop it, she told herself, get ahold of yourself you idiot.

“You seem to have recovered quickly.”

“Must have been just a twinge I guess.” When Sebastian just gave her a flat stare, she responded in kind. “Look, I saw no reason to reveal how we got into Kirkwall or to give Taran away, if she is who Cullen is looking for.”

“Cullen isn't a stupid man. He had to have known we were holding something back.”

“Of course he knew, Sebastian. But he let the matter drop quickly enough, so I’m not worried about it.”

“Too quickly one might say.”

“And you don’t let go of anything. Look, Cullen will find whatever it is he’s looking for with or without our help. He’s almost as stubborn as you are. Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

“You know him well.”

Marissa swore under her breath. She took it back. Sebastian was leagues ahead of Cullen in the stubbornness department.

“We've had occasion to work together in the past, yes. It was an arrangement that was of mutual benefit.”

“Just how mutual?”

Marissa froze as she reached the door. It was hard to mistake the tone of jealousy in his voice. An emotion he had no cause to hold.

“Mutual in a way that it is none of your business.”

“Marissa.” His hand shot out and grabbed her arm, stopping her from opening the door. Her entire body stiffened as she attempted to keep her voice calm and even as ice threaded through her tone.

“You will take your hands off me Sebastian. Now.”

He dropped her arm almost as quickly as he had grabbed it. She didn’t like this tug and war game he was playing. First he kisses her, stirring up her up like none other had, then he pushes her away, and now he had the audacity to act jealous at the thought of her with someone else. She refused to play this game. Turning back to him, she kept her gaze steady and firm.

“I am not a toy or trophy or thing to be won. I won’t be a puzzle or mystery for you to figure out. I’m a person Sebastian, one more than capable of taking care of herself. I make my own decisions on what I do and who I’m with and I don’t make any apologies for that.” It was getting harder to maintain her even tone but she pushed through. “You need to make a decision. Either you want me and are willing to follow through, or you set it aside and leave me be.”

Marissa slammed open the door and left him standing there, not really caring if he followed her or not. She changed her mind about those tankards of ale. She was going to need something stronger.

XXXXXXXX

“We should be out there looking for them.”

“I suppose we could have chased after them half naked without our weapons, but that wouldn't have been very practical.”

“I wouldn't have been unarmed, Isabela.”

“Sweetling, I think very highly of your cock but I don’t think it’s capable of that kind of slaying.”

“Isabela.” 

“Oh hush, now. Marissa’s very capable of taking care of herself. It’s the Choir Boy you should be worrying about.”

“Sebastian can handle himself.”

“Oh, sure he can. I've seen how he wields that bow of his. I meant with Marissa. She’ll skin him if he moves the wrong way.”

“And you’re so sure he will.”

“We've both seen how he looks at her and we both know that he’s not exactly well known for his impulse control. And now that he’s been out from underneath the Chantry’s thumb for over a year, he doesn't have much to restrain him but his own honor.”

“I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit, Isabela. Sebastian is a very honorable man.”

“I don’t doubt his honor. I doubt his ability to keep his dick in his pants. Once the yoke of servitude is released people tend to revert back to form. And we've both heard stories about his wild youth.”

“Are people not allowed to change?”

“Sure people can change. They change everyday, Maker bless them. But very few can commit to that change. You wouldn't have warned him off Marissa if you didn’t think the same.”

Fenris couldn’t argue with that. He remembered the look in Sebastian’s eyes when the former lay brother had first seen Marissa, and had seen several other looks he had directed at her. There was no doubt that his friend was attracted to Marissa; the only doubt was what he would do with it.

“I must say, The Hanged Man does lack a certain something without Varric’s presence.”

“We’ll find him, Isabela, don’t worry.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Isabela was right; the tavern wasn't quite the same. There were still the same surly customers and the odd idiot from Hightown who wanted to slum it; even the man who talked to the air was still there, but it wasn't the same. Corff hadn’t had much information to pass on to them except that Varric hadn’t been seen in over a week or so. Corff had offered to open up Varric’s suite to them, and not one to turn down a bath, Isabela readily accepted. She didn’t mind a little blood, but she did object to the stink of Kirkwall’s sewers.

Fenris swirled the wine in his cup, a brooding frown marring his face. Isabela watched as his eyebrows scrunched together. He was quite adorable when he did that and it made her want to drag him up to Varric’s suite for another round but she decided that they’d have to do the responsible thing and wait for Marissa and Sebastian to show up. 

Isabela leaned back in her chair, her foot pushing against the table to tilt herself back further. To anyone else she would look relaxed, even at ease, but if one looked carefully they would see the sharp glint in her eye as she observed the tavern. It had considerably cleared out since they had arrived a little over an hour ago. Corff was wiping down the bar while Norah cleared off the empties from vacant tables. If they had been anyone else, Corff would have turned them out with the rest of the patrons, but Varric’s friendship earned them a special status.

Another hour passed and she was beginning to think that maybe Fenris was right, that maybe they should go out any look for them when the doors opened. Marissa trudged in, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and annoyance; Sebastian was close on her heels looking just as tired and annoyed. Isabela retained her relaxed position even as relief flooded through her. She wasn't quite prepared to lose another person she cared about, not yet.

“Well, you took your own sweet time. I hope you have something.”

“Oh, we do. Had to take a detour through the Dark Foundry, but we got what we needed. He’s-.”

“The Dark Foundry? Maker’s balls, why were you there?” Isabela dropped the chair down onto all four legs and leveled them with a hard stare.

“It wasn't by choice, trust me. Ran into some old friends and one thing led to another but we’re here now and I will give you the sexual favor of your choice if you give me your ale, two if I can get some food that isn't hardtack or jerky,” Marissa pleaded as the nearly fell into a chair.

Isabela slid her tankard across the table. “Here, you look so tired, I’d feel guilty for asking you to pay up on that promise,” Isabela paused, sniffing the air. “I didn’t think it was possible, but the two of you stink worse than we did when we got out of the sewers. Had a nice little journey, did we?”

Marissa took a long swallow from the tankard, letting the ale sooth her throat. She had no sooner set it down than Norah had placed two more tankards down along with two bowls of stew. Her relief was so great that Marissa almost stood up and kissed the woman but she wasn't sure if her legs would support her.

“One could say that,” she answered.

“We've confirmed it. He’s being held in the Amell estate,” Sebastian said before spooning a large serving of stew into his mouth. 

“Well, fuck me sideways. I should have just gone with my gut; we’d be done with this by now if I had. Dammit.”

“I guess the question now is, do we go after him now or wait until morning,” Marissa said as she tried to ignore the strings of exhaustion pulling at her. She had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours and had not had a lot of sleep the night before. One could run on adrenaline and nerves for so long.

“Oh, sweetling, that’s very kind of you to offer, but I don’t think you’d be able to fend off a mouse right now much less a group of Seekers. Best that you rest up. But a bath first, I think. Corff has graciously allowed us access to Varric’s suite.”

“Oh, thank the Maker. I’m in dire need of a bath and this armor could use one as well. The next time we sneak into a city I vote we don’t take the sewers.”

“I don’t think any of us are going to argue with that. Even Danarius’s cells smelled better.”

Marissa raised an eyebrow at Fenris’s statement. Did he really crack a joke about his enslavement? Who would have thought.

Pushing her empty bowl away, Marissa rolled her shoulders and tried to stretch some of the knots out. Now that her belly was full, the only thing on her mind was to get clean and find the closest horizontal surface.

“I get first dibs on the tub, Choir Boy. You’ll have to wait.”

“Of course. Take your time,” was his stiff reply. Marissa was too busy massaging the knot at the base of her skull as she walked away to notice Isabela’s eyes narrow speculatively. Sebastian didn’t miss it though, nor the menacing look she gave him before she followed Marissa up the stairs.

“You kissed her, didn’t you?” Fenris asked after both women disappeared upstairs.

“Aye.”

“Didn’t end well, I take it.”

“I handled it… poorly.”

“Out of practice or let your Chantry guilt get the better of you?”

“Both. I think.” Sebastian tilted his head back and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. 

Fenris was silent a moment. “I suppose this is the point where I should knock some sense into you, but it looks like you’re doing a good enough job all on your own.”

“I find myself torn like I've never been, my friend. I don’t think I felt this conflicted when I was trying to decide between retaking Starkhaven or committing myself to the Chantry. 

"She spins me about. I don’t know what direction I’m pointing in and I don’t like it.”

Fenris found himself in the uncomfortable, and somewhat ridiculous, position of giving relationship advice. If Hawke were here he’d be laughing his ass off, probably from the floor as he’d have fallen off his chair. 

“And it’s completely ridiculous. I've known her for a handful of days, but she pulls at me, something deep within me that I hadn’t realized was there.”

Fenris remained silent. Wondering, hoping, that if he let Sebastian just talk it out of his system he wouldn't have to say anything.

“It doesn't make a damned bit of sense. She scares the hell out of me but I can’t keep away. And I know I should. I just… can’t.”

This was the part where he knew he should probably say something but Fenris was at a loss at what exactly to say. Having little to no experience in giving advice, especially relationship advice, he went back on his old standby of “what would Hawke do.”

“Have you spoken to Marissa about what you feel?”

“Are you mad? Of course not. There’s not been time. Between fighting darkspawn, getting to Kirkwall, and everything else, I haven’t had the time to process it myself, much less how to talk to her about it.”

“So… you decided to just kiss her instead?”

“It seemed like the right thing to do at the time,” Sebastian mumbled as he grabbed his tankard only to find it empty. He tossed it back on the table with a frustrated sigh. “I couldn’t help myself. She was so irritated with me for letting us end up in the Dark Foundry and I guess you could say I was a bit wound up over… things.”

“Things? How very eloquent of you Sebastian.”

“Give me a break, Fenris. I had just watched her leap up onto the roofs of the shanties down in Darktown and race over them like some blighted cat, only to then tackled this shady dwarf merchant. Her knife, it just appeared out of nowhere. And then we were surrounded by half the Carta, or their counterparts anyway. She knew their leader and I get the feeling that if I hadn’t tossed a couple of smoke bombs and escaped, we’d both be dead.”

The last part of Sebastian’s ramble caught Fenris’s attention. “She knew the leader?”

“Yes. A man named Tobias. It seems they were… intimate, once upon a time. Neither looked very happy to see each other.”

“I would imagine not. Tobias is from a previous part of her life, a part she would most like to forget. This will make getting out of Kirkwall tricky.”

“Who is Tobias?”

Fenris squirmed in his chair, finding himself in yet another uncomfortable position caught between two loyalties. He hadn’t had this problem when he kept to himself.

“Fenris?”

“Like many Fereldans, Marissa came here to escape the Blight. She stayed there longer than most; stayed through the Archdemon’s attack on Denerim, through the darkspawn resurgence at Amaranthine.” 

“Andraste have mercy.”

“She won’t talk about it much but I’m pretty sure there hasn't been much mercy in her life,” Fenris paused. “She grew up in Highever… do you know of what happened there?”

“I... I heard rumors, second and third-hand accounts.”

“Marissa’s one of the few who escaped that massacre. And if I were to guess, she’s been running ever since.” Fenris knew better than most that one could never run far enough or fast enough to escape the things that haunt you.

“So she keeps on running.”

“Indeed.”

Fenris feared for the day when she couldn’t run anymore.

XXXXXX

“What is that?”

“What is what?” Marissa unhooked her belt, sliding off the pouches so she could easily refill them after her bath. With everything that had happened over the past couple of days, her supplies were running low. 

“Don’t play stupid, sweet thing. That thing on your neck. It wasn't there before.”

“What? Oh. Must have gotten it when I was chasing down that idiot Galvin.”

“Please, Marissa. I know a love bite when I see one.”

Marissa felt her face flush red, not only for Isabela noticing the mark but also for the tone behind it; be it teasing or mocking she couldn’t tell.

“It was just a kiss, Isabela. It didn’t mean anything.”

“The stick up your ass says different.”

“I don’t have a stick--.” Frustrated, Marissa tossed her dragonskin cuirass on the floor before sitting down and pulling a hand through her hair. “Alright, maybe I do. It’s just, it’s just that I've never been kissed like that before. I thought my brain was going to explode from all the heat. He had me up against the wall and just started… devouring me.”

“Oh my. Perhaps those tales of his wild youth weren't completely exaggerated. Guess the Chantry couldn’t stamp all of it out.”

“It did a good enough job that he stopped and said that it couldn’t happen. That he was sorry, but we couldn’t.”

“That right bastard.”

Marissa didn’t respond as she stood up, stripping off the rest of her armor, letting it drop around her as she paced. “And then, and then! He gets all pissy when he thinks Cullen and I had a _thing_ going on way back when. Which is _ridiculous_. He was a friend, nothing more.”

“Obviously.” Isabela leaned back in her chair, swinging her legs over the arm. She struggled to keep the amusement out of her voice. Admittedly she had been concerned about her friend getting tangled up with Sebastian but Marissa’s reaction was priceless. It had been too long since she had had this type of amusement; it was an activity that both she and Varric had shared.

“The man’s impossible. I’ll be glad to be rid of him. Once we find Varric, he can finish whatever business he has with him and go off on his merry way.”

“Hmm.” Isabela inspected her nails, biting her lower lip. She had a feeling that finding Varric was only the beginning. Something was coming, something big, and she didn’t think that the royal archer was going to be leaving as quickly as Marissa seemed to think. Under different circumstances, she would be glad to see his back, but she had a feeling they were going to need all the help they could get for whatever lay ahead.

“What does that mean, “hmm?” I would have thought you’d want him gone too? You don’t seem to think too much of him.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He has his good points. The fact that he’s not spouting verses from the Chant of Light or singing praises of Andraste every other minute is a huge improvement. 

"I’m honestly surprised that he stopped wearing that belt with her face on it. Honestly, you’d think that a pious man wouldn't want the Maker’s Bride covering his crotch.” 

Marissa stopped her pacing and just stared at her friend. Most of the time, what you saw was what you got with Isabela, and she made no apologies for who she was, but there were times when she would reverse course and surprise you.

“Are you telling me the mother hen act was just an act?”

“Don’t be silly, darling. I care about you but I know you well enough that you can take care of yourself. The fact that I get to watch Sebastian stumble over himself? Well, that’s an opportunity I can’t pass up. You’ll keep him in line well enough. I can sit back and watch the show.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Aren't I just? Now then, into the bath with you. You stink.” And as if to prove it, Isabela wrinkled her nose in distaste. “We’ll all have to share the room tonight; inn’s full up, so grab whichever couch you want. Fenris and I have already claimed the bed.”

Marissa snorted. “Of course you have. Maker, I’m tired. I hope I don’t fall asleep in the tub.”

“My, that _would_ be embarrassing wouldn't it? Especially as Sebastian is hoping to use it after you.”

“Get out,” Marissa laughed, tossing her shirt at Isabela. Her friend nimbly stepped to the side, her laughter trailing behind her as she left the room.

Finally alone, Marissa stepped behind the screen and looked at the tub. It wasn't quite as big as the one at the inn but it would more than serve her purpose. Stepping up to the tub, she pulled the water pump lever and waited as the water started to run. She wanted nothing more than to fill it to the top but she didn’t want to wait that long to start scrubbing the filth off her skin. Activating the fire rune, she stepped in and let the heat seeped into her. 

Closing her eyes, Marissa leaned back and tried to relax, as much as she could anyway. She’d never been able to attain that state of complete relaxation that others seemed to attain. Her brain never settled enough for her to get there. So she settled for something less and hoped that it would be enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Sebastian tried to find a comfortable position on the couch he had appropriated for himself but it was just too damned short for him. He briefly thought about unrolling his pallet and just sleeping on the floor but it seemed like too much effort for too little reward. Besides, he didn’t want to risk waking the others. Sleep was a precious commodity and they hadn’t had nearly enough of it as of late.

Punching at his pillow, he rolled onto his side. Isabela and Fenris had commandeered the bed for themselves and he couldn’t help the thin thread of jealousy that pulled through him. Not just for the extra legroom but for the closeness the two shared. It was a keen ache, one he was pretty sure he had never experienced before. He had missed his family, his grandfather mostly, when he had left Starkhaven; had felt anger when he had learned of their murders; and had felt confusion when faced with the decision of whether to retake Starkhaven or fully commit himself to the Chantry.

Now... Now he wasn't sure what he felt. All he knew was that he didn't like it. 

Sitting up, he swung his legs over the side of the couch and braced his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands. When had his life become so confusing? And unpredictable? He could probably pinpoint it down to the day he met Hawke. No, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Hawke’s fault, but the man sure had stirred the pot quite enough.

A soft moan broke the silence of the night. Sebastian’s head snapped up from his hands, his eyes zeroing in on the source of the sound. A few feet away, Marissa lay on the other couch, her face pressed into the cushion, a pained expression on her face. Her arm flung out, beating against the back of the couch, her hand tightly clenched into a fist.

_“No!”_

The word escaped past her lips forcefully but with a tone Sebastian didn’t recognize; at least not from Marissa. He was halfway to her before he realized what he was doing. She hadn’t exactly welcomed his company since before they had gone to Darktown and he couldn’t really blame her for it. He had behaved abominably, rashly, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from kissing her. Having her in his arms seemed like the most natural thing in the world, it was only the remnants of his vows that had pulled him back. And by doing so he had hurt her. 

His jealousy after meeting Cullen hadn’t helped either. He honestly couldn’t remember when he had acted like such a jackass.

A thin cry from Marissa broke his paralysis and he was at her side, grasping the hand she had flung out as if to protect herself from an oncoming assault. Her skin was icy cold, as if she had plunged into a frozen river, yet sweat coated her skin with a sticky film.

“No, please.”

Sebastian pushed her damp hair off her forehead, feeling helpless as to what to do as Marissa continued to fight whatever demons plagued her sleep. He was tempted to wake her but he didn’t know if that would make matters worse or not.

“Hush now, tis just a dream,” he whispered as he continued to stroke her skin, hoping the action would soothe her. Marissa squeezed his hand hard, the bones of his hand crunching together. She arched off the couch as if something had struck her from behind and Sebastian did the only thing he could think of. He shifted her as he slid onto the couch behind her and pulled her into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her. She curled into his chest, her whimpers subsiding even as she clutched a handful of his shirt in her hand. Sebastian shifted so that she lay between his legs and lightly stroked her arm, wishing he could do more.

Slowly she relaxed in his arms, the vestiges of the nightmare fading as she fell into dreamless sleep. Sebastian knew that he should extricate himself from their compromising position but he couldn’t find the energy or the will to do so. He had the presence of mind to pull up a blanket over them as sleep crept on him as well, pulling him under into sleep.

XXXXX

For the first time in several days Marissa woke without her brain pounding between her ears. She had the vaguest memory of a nightmare marring her sleep but something had stilled it before it had the opportunity to take her over. Something had wrapped her in a protective cocoon, warding her against the monsters that every so often crawled out of a dark recess in her brain. The hollowness she normally felt after a nightmare was absent, as if something had absorbed it.

A blanket was wrapped snugly around her but she knew that a mere blanket couldn’t guard her against her nightmares. Deciding not to question her good fortune, Marissa sat up to find that she was alone. All of their gear was neatly packed, ready to go at a moment's notice. Even her own. Marissa frowned as she stood up. Why hadn’t they wakened her?

She dressed quickly, pulling a fresh shirt roughly over her head before reaching for her armor and started on the complex set of buckles. She was just pulling on one of her boots when the door opened and Sebastian started to walk in only to stop when he saw her. His face flushed at the sight of her and whatever he had been about to say stopped in his throat.

“What? What’s with the red face, Sebastian? It’s not like you walked in here and caught me wearing nothing but my small clothes.”

“Ah, well. That is, uh--.”

“And while we’re at it, why didn’t any of you wake me up? We've too much to do for me to sleep the day away.”

“I was just coming up to do so.”

Marissa paused, her fingers snagging on the laces to her boot. He was coming to wake her? Why him?

“Isabela thought it best. That is, she and Fenris went back to the clinic to see if there wasn't anything there that we could use and left it to me to see that everything is ready for when we move.” Sebastian didn’t mention that he had awoken to Isabela standing over them with a look of something between amusement and disapproval on her face. He was sure this was her way of punishing him and it was working. 

“Why didn’t they grab the stuff before they left last night?” Marissa frowned before waving it away. Isabela had her own reasons for the things she did; Marissa had stopped asking a long time ago. Didn’t stop her from wondering what she was about though.

“Whatever. I’m awake and dressed now… _Why_ in the Maker’s name are you staring at me like that?”

Sebastian said nothing as he crossed over to her. She tried not to flinch as his hand rose to her face and his thumb brushed the skin just under her eye. His eyes studied her carefully, searching for something. Marissa could only guess for what.

She started to pull back but his other hand rose and pushed her bangs out of her eyes before trailing down her cheek to rest on the curve of her neck. Her breath grew tight in her chest as she watched him. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against her forehead in a gesture so sweet that she didn’t know how to respond to except to ask why.

“Because you looked like you needed it. You slept poorly last night.”

“I slept just fine.”

“Eventually, but not at first. But you’re fine now.”

“Of course I’m fine. Why wouldn't I be?” Marissa wanted to step back out of his embrace but found herself incapable of doing so. He was treading on ground she had no wish for him to be near.

Instead of answering, Sebastian tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, tilting his head as he studied her. Marissa found herself caught up in his gaze, his blue eyes dilated despite the light in the room. 

Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against her, testing both himself and her. She had been right when she had told him that he had to make a choice. Well, he’d made one, he just hoped that she was amenable to it.

“Sebastian.”

“Just a moment,” he murmured against her lips. “Just another moment.”

He trailed a finger down the shell of her ear as he tilted his head and kissed her again, this time letting his lips linger. His fingers threaded back through her hair and with a light tug her head titled back even as she leaned forward to accept his kiss.

He was gentler this time, softer in a way, but no less disarming. Any thought of their mission fled as he tugged at her bottom lip, his tongue begging entrance. Marissa leaned forward, accepting his offering. Her hands crept up and grasped onto the buckles of his armor, unconsciously trying to steady herself. 

She sorely wanted to run her fingers through his hair but her hands were caught between them and he was very persistent in his efforts to render her incapable of taking control. His lips and teeth scraped down her jaw as he turned to press her against a column. Again, not the wild forcefulness he had exhibited down in the bowels of the Foundry but no less potent. And, again, Marissa found herself frustrated at the layers of armor that separated them.

He moved slowly, frustratingly so, as if he was afraid he would hurt her. Marissa could have told him that his current leisurely pace was about ready to kill her. She wanted to feel his skin, to feel the muscles stretch and flex underneath her fingers. She wanted to taste the sweat as it beaded on his skin, to hear his breath catch in his throat when she scraped her fingernails down him.

She just wanted.

Sebastian pulled back, his lips grazing her cheek before pressing lightly against her lips. He bent his forehead to hers and it was with no small amount of delight that he sounded just as unsteady as she felt.

“Marissa,” he breathed as his hands came to rest on her hips. Marissa closed her eyes and inhaled his scent, wanting to store the memory of it. His placed soft kisses over her face, at the corners of her eyes, at the junction where her jaw met her neck, down the side of her throat until she was trembling all over again.

“We should go. They’ll be wondering where we are.” His voice was soft in her ear as he tugged on her earlobe.

“Uh huh,” was all the reply she could manage. Maker, if he could reduce her to this with just his lips and tongue, what would happen when they got each other naked?

“We’re supposed to meet them in Hightown in twenty minutes,” he said as his mouth traveled down her neck to nip at the spot where he had marked her yesterday.

“More than enough time,” she breathed, finally getting her fingers into his hair.

Sebastian raised his head and captured her face in both of his hands, the calluses on his fingers scraping against her skin. His voice was ragged and his accent thick and heavy when he spoke. “Oh, no, my lady. That will not be enough time, not nearly enough time.”

“Promise?”

A shaky laugh escaped past his lips as he leaned in for one last lingering kiss. “You can depend upon it, my lady.”

“Alright then.”

Sebastian pushed back but Marissa stayed where she was for a few moments longer. She wanted to wait until she was sure that her legs would carry her. The odds were against her at the moment.

Leaning against the pillar, she watched him as he gathered up their things. He truly was a fine example of a man. He hadn’t let all those years in the Chantry make him soft and despite the years of self-imposed celibacy it was very clear that he knew what he was doing.

“I should still be angry with you.”

“I suppose you should be, but I shall endeavor to earn your forgiveness. I have no wish to stay on your bad side.”

Marissa snorted as she pushed against the pillar and stood up straight, pleased when she discovered that her legs would indeed hold her up. She picked up her pack from the floor and headed toward the door.

“Marissa, wait.”

“Changed your mind?”

“I’m tempted but we do have an appointment. I just thought that you might want to put your other boot on before we go.”

Marissa looked down and scowled at her one bare foot. She hadn’t even felt the wood against her skin when she had made for the door. Marching over to Sebastian, she snatched her boot out of his hand. She quickly pulled the other sock on before shoving her foot in the boot, lacing it up as quickly as she could.

She glared at Sebastian, annoyed with both herself and the amused look on his face. This was really all his fault.

“Not a word.”

“Oh, my lips are sealed, my lady. I shan't mention it to anyone.”

Marissa stopped on her way back to the door, dropping her pack on the floor before she grabbed his face with both hands and brought her lips to his, bringing fire and heat with her. She wasn't slow or gentle with him as she tugged at his hair to bring him closer. Just as he started to grab hold of her, she stepped back, a self satisfied smirk growing on her face at the dazed look on his face.

“There. Now we can go.”

XXXXX

Dark clouds hung low as they made their way up to Hightown. Marissa tried not to take that as an omen of things to come. Sebastian stuck close to her side, never more than a few paces away from her.

“Where are we supposed to meet them?”

“Just up ahead here. Isabela wants to get a look at the estate before we figure out what to do.”

“Seems reasonable enough.” Marissa glanced around. Despite it being midday, the streets were depressingly quiet. “Where is everyone?"

“With the Templars running roughshod over everyone and the Seekers poking into dark corners, can you really blame people for sticking close to home?”

“No, I can’t. I don’t envy the City Guard here.”

“Nor do I. Aveline has quite a task on her hands.”

“I keep forgetting that you were part of the Champion’s company. Sometimes the image fits, and others, well, it doesn't.”

“I feel I can safely say that there are many who hold that opinion. Myself included. I think the only one who wasn't surprised was Hawke. One can only dream of having half the charisma that man had,” Sebastian paused. “And even with that, it wasn't enough.”

Marissa stopped, placing a hand on Sebastian’s arm. “No one could have known just how bad the situation could get. No one. There were too many variables, too many factions. I have my doubts the Maker would have been able to sort it all out.”

“That’s blasphemy, my lady.”

“Yeah, well, my point stands.” She let her hand slip from his arm and continued forward. “The disease in this city is terminal. People should leave while they still can.”

“It’s not as easy as that.”

“I know it, Sebastian. Trust me, I know.”

Sebastian kept his own counsel as he led her to the alcove to where Isabela and Fenris waited. The pirate eyed them both as a smirk rose on her face.

“Did you two decide to take a detour? Lose your boots perhaps? Or waylaid by bandits?”

Marissa choked back on a cough and hoped that her face wasn't as flushed as Sebastian’s was. She wondered if the man could blush on command. She might find it adorable under different circumstances but at the moment it was damned inconvenient. 

“So, what’s the plan. Do you think he’s still in there?”

Isabela slid her a sly glance and Marissa had the uncomfortable feeling she was going to be pressed for details later. Maker, she should have never elaborated on that first kiss to begin with.

“As far as we can tell, yes. At least those guards outside the estate would imply as much. We can’t get close enough to verify.”

“Close enough on ground level you mean,” Marissa smiled. “I believe I can help you with that. Give me fifteen minutes. That should be enough time.” 

“Enough time for what?”

“Hush now, Choir Boy, let the girl work.”

Marissa pulled her hood up over her face and searched the walls around them. Finding what she needed, she took off at a run, using one of the potted urns as leverage to launch herself upward to the vine-covered trellis that provided shade to the benches below. Using her momentum, she pulled herself up to the top, and, carefully placing her feet, jumped from the trellis to the roof of a nearby. From there she let her feet take lead, flying over the rooftops like a cat. 

“Blessed Andraste, what is she doing?”

“Free running she calls it, although I can see how it might look like suicide. She’s more nimble on those rooftops than most of the sailors that have sailed with me. I’d like to see how she fare on some rigging.”

Sebastian watched as Marissa raced across the rooftops. If he didn’t know better he’d say there was some type of magic involved.

As for Marissa the rush of adrenaline helped to smooth out the agitated edges of lust that had coursed through her since leaving The Hanged Man. She didn’t know exactly what Sebastian was up to, but as long as he didn’t pull another stunt like he did under the Foundry she was willing to go along with it.

Marissa had a theory that the city planners of Kirkwall’s past had been drunk when they drew up the plans for the city and she blessed them for it. The manses and homes of Hightown were so haphazardly built around each other that it made it all too easy for any thief to gain access. There were a few exceptions, the old Amell estate being one of them. It hadn’t always been so. Hawke had made several improvements once he had moved his family in, several of which made unwanted entry impossible.

Well, _nearly_ impossible, she thought, a sly grin spreading across her face. She always did like a challenge.

Marissa leapt from the adjacent building to the roof of the Amell Estate, letting herself hang off the eave. A roof tile loosed from its mooring, causing her to lose her grip and forced to hang by one hand before she could reestablish her hold.

“Shit,” she whispered as she watched the tile fall and shatter upon impact on the stones two stories below, hoping that none of the Seekers inside had heard it. 

She swung herself forward, bringing her toes to rest on the narrow ledge that jutted out from a window. Hooking her fingers into the loose mortar between the stones, she perched herself on the sill, thankful for the overcast day. Peering inside she could see a sparsely furnished room, what might have been at one time a library. Seeing all those empty shelves made her sad and she hoped that whoever had taken them had at least found good homes for them instead of selling them to some collector who would just put them on display and never read them.

The room was far from empty however. A fire was lit in the fireplace but seemed to do nothing to warm the room. Across from where she perched sat a large stone and wood chair that looked incredibly uncomfortable, though one wouldn't guess so by the look on its occupant’s face. Varric Tethras almost looked relaxed and most would think so if they didn’t notice a slight tightness around his eyes.

A tall, slender figure stood before him, a heavy book resting in her hands. Her armor marked her as a Seeker. Could this perhaps be the infamous Cassandra Pentaghast?

Marissa leaned in further and tried to listen in on the conversation going on in the room. Fortunately, due to nearly a year of neglect, there was a small gap between the window sash and the sill and it wasn't like the room’s occupants were trying to keep quiet.

“So then it was Meredith who provoked the Circle. It was she who is to blame. Is this what you are telling me, dwarf?”

“The late Knight-Commander certainly wielded the sword that brought this city nearly to its knees but what happened here isn't any one person’s fault. Granted a lot of the blame does lie on her shoulders, but there were many forces at work here.

“Tell me, Seeker. How is hearing all this, several times might I add, going to help anything. The Circles have all fallen. The Templar Order is in disarray, and that’s putting it mildly. What do you hope to gain from this?”

Something flashed in the Seeker’s eyes, a look that Marissa recognized. It was one of anger and regret.

“Not all of us desire war, Varric,” she said tightly, using his name for the first time. The look on her face softened as she stepped closer to Varric. “Please, you must tell me. Where is the Champion? Where is Hawke?”

“Honestly, Cassandra. I don’t know.”

“But you must have some idea. He is a hero. He sided with the mages, the mages would listen to him, and with that, perhaps we can avoid the oncoming storm.”

“It that what this is all about?” Varric sighed, shaking his head. “I wish I could help you, Cassandra, I really do.”

“Is he alive? Can you at least tell me that?” Marissa barely heard the Seeker’s request her voice had dropped so low.

“If I've learned anything over the ten years that I spent at his side, I've learned never to underestimate Ronan Hawke. He’s out there, somewhere, but I doubt you’ll find him. He won’t be found unless he wants to be found.”

The Seeker bowed her head, looking down at the book in her hands. Marissa watched as her shoulders slumped, as if a heavy weight was pushing down upon her.

“You are free to go, Varric. I thank you for your help.” The Seeker turned and walked toward the stairs, her voice fading as she moved away. “May the Maker watch over you in these dark times.”

Marissa continued to watch as Varric sat there for several moments, seemingly collecting himself. She had never met the dwarf herself, not really, but she had watched him from across the tavern floor at the Hanged Man and had never seen the sad look he now wore. 

Several more seconds passed before Varric shook himself and got up from the chair. He spared a glance at the window she was hanging from and if she didn’t know better she thought she saw him wink at her. Marissa pulled back, twisting herself away and up from the window onto the roof.

“Shit,” she whispered again. He had seen her? Not that it really mattered. It could have been worse, it could have been one of the Seekers who had seen her, but it disturbed her that she had been detected.

The sound of armored boots rang throughout the courtyard. Creeping along the edge of the roof, Marissa saw more than a dozen soldiers standing in formation outside the entrance to the Amell estate. A light fog swirling between their legs. Thunder grumbled over her head, lending an even more ominous overtone to the day.

Marissa watched as Varric left the estate, walking through the soldiers and across the courtyard. From her perch on the roof Marissa could see her companions standing in the recessed alcove where she had left them. Isabela’s arms were crossed over her chest, her head cocked to one side. Marissa imagined the pirate was two parts relieved that Varric had come out of his encounter with the Seekers relatively unscathed and one part annoyed that she wasn't able to make a dramatic rescue. 

Both Fenris and Isabela watched Varric as he moved through the courtyard but Sebastian’s gaze was focused on her. What was the idiot doing? If anyone saw him looking at the roof where she was perched, they would wonder what he was looking at and then they would look too and see her, thereby forcing her to make a quick exit. Not that she minded quick exits but she liked to avoid them when at all possible..

A voice floated up to her, a familiar Orlesian voice broke through her thoughts. From her spot on the roof, Marissa looked down and saw a redhead dressed in Seeker armor approach Cassandra who stood at the entrance to the Amell estate.

“Oh, fuck my life. This can’t be happening.” Marissa had to force herself to be still and not run. It had been many years since she had last seen Leliana; a lot must have happened in that time for her to be wearing a Seeker’s armor.

“So, did he know…?”

“Gone. But, according to the dwarf not dead. Unlike the Warden.” 

“One dead, the other missing. This is most unfortunate.”

“I agree. Do we proceed with the original plan then? Or should be keep looking?” Cassandra asked.

What original plan, Marissa asked herself. What were the Seekers planning? Whatever it was it couldn’t be good. It reeked of desperation that they were searching for both the Warden and the Champion of Kirkwall.

“It is in the Maker’s hands now.”

Cassandra nodded sharply as she handed the large tome to Leliana before walking away with a group of soldiers. Leliana remained, stroking her fingers over the cover of the book. What was in that book, Marissa wondered. It had to contain something important for them to hang onto it.

Thunder cracked overhead as fat drops of icy rain began to fall but Marissa forced herself to stay still. Though she now wore a Seeker’s armor, Marissa seriously doubted that Leliana had forgotten any of her skills from her previous life and even though they had parted on friendly terms, Marissa had no desire to be arrested by the Seekers. Innocent of mischief or not, those in power would frown upon her current activity. 

Lightning speared through the sky behind her, the light casting her shadow onto the ground below her. Leliana turned and looked up and Marissa had to scrambled back quickly, hoping that she hadn’t been spotted. 

“Son of a bitch. Fuck,” she whispered as she eased further back out of view from those below, knowing that the thunder and rain would cover any sound she made. That knowledge didn’t stop her heart from pounding in her chest however. Leliana wasn't stupid, she knew that much from their brief encounter all those years ago in Denerim.

Marissa looked across the courtyard, seeing that her friends were still standing there. She scrunched her face in frustration, hoping that they weren't waiting for her. They didn’t need to attract any more attention than was necessary. The Seekers may have let Varric go but she wouldn't be surprised if they would set someone to follow him just in case and having her seeming drop from the sky would not help. No, taking a roundabout way back to The Hanged Man seemed like a better idea. 

And Sebastian was still looking up at her position. Curse the man.

“So, from loitering in dungeons to loitering on rooftops. You've come up in the world my friend. Literally it seems.”

Marissa had to force herself not to flinch at the familiar Orlesian voice. Rising carefully to her feet, she turned to face Leliana. There was a twinkle in the former lay sister’s eye that annoyed her almost as much as the fact that the woman had gotten the drop on her. Yes, she definitely needed to up her game.

“Leliana. You've gotten new armor.”

Leliana let out a delighted laugh that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “That I have. It seems you have too. That dark green looks quite lovely on you. The hood is new, isn't it? I don’t remember you having one the last time we saw each other.”

“It seemed prudent. I thought about a mask but it hindered my vision too much,” Marissa paused as she assessed the situation. The older woman must want something, she wouldn't be up here otherwise. “Now that we've discussed our outfits, care to tell me what you want? I have things to do.”

“Oh my dear, still as direct as ever, I see. I am glad to know that some things do not change. Tell me, do you still carry vengeance in your heart?”

Marissa’s jaw tightened. “Any vengeance I had or didn’t have died when the Warden put an arrow through Howe’s skull.”

“Truly? Because I do not see peace in your heart.”

“What do you want, Leliana?” Marissa bit out, her hands clenching into fists. She was close to losing her temper. 

“For starters, you could tell me why you are lurking on the Champion’s rooftop.”

“I have my reasons, none of which concern you.”

“Oh, I doubt that. Do you know where the Champion is?”

Marissa gawked as the sudden hardness in Leliana’s voice. “I never had the pleasure of meeting the man,” she said carefully.

“That is a pity. I did meet him once. A lovely man. He had the most peculiar companions.” Leliana laughed. “But then I am no stranger to peculiar companions. War makes strange bedfellows.”

Marissa kept silent, unsure where the woman was going with her line of questioning.

“Yes, he had peculiar companions, who, rumor has it, scattered across Thedas not long after the Chantry was destroyed. It is of interest to me then, why four of them are waiting in that alcove across the courtyard.”

“Perhaps they like the view. Hightown can be quite stunning when seen through rain and fog.”

“Still as stubborn as ever I see. Well, then, I suppose it is good to know that some things do not change. I wonder if you would be willing to use that stubbornness for a greater purpose.”

“It’s a little late to try to bring me into the Maker’s service.”

“Never say never, but that is not what I meant. You heard the conversation between Seeker Pentaghast and Varric Tethras, yes? We had hoped he knew where the Champion was.”

“You hoped to find him so he could rein in the mages. I believe that ship has sailed. You cannot undo what has been done.”

“You are perhaps right.” Leliana sighed, removing the book from her satchel, running her fingers over the cover. “But I must believe that Thedas can be saved. We cannot allow it to fall into chaos.”

They stood there silently as the rain fell from the sky in a light mist. Marissa had still yet to hear what Leliana wanted but damn her if she was going to ask again. The woman was purposefully taunting her, playing that game that bards played all too well, and Marissa refused to play.

“I know you do not think much of the Chantry, Marissa, and the Maker knows that it has failed many in Thedas, but I still believe that it can be a force for good, for all peoples of Thedas.”

“It certainly failed Kirkwall.”

Leliana bowed her head in acknowledgement. “Perhaps you are right but I would see things put right. And failing that, at least bringing order to chaos. But in order to do that, we must seek out the source of the evil that is infecting Thedas.”

“Is this where you tell me what your original plan is?”

A smile brightened Leliana’s face for a brief moment before it became serious again. “You have a unique skill set, my friend, one that I believe can be of great assistance. The Divine may not want to admit it in public yet, but the Chantry, even the Seekers can only do so much. There are too many who do not trust the Chantry. We need someone outside of the Chantry to root out this great evil before it spreads further than it has. I believe that person is you.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

That smile made another brief appearance before Leliana spoke again. “It is no joke. It cannot be a coincidence that you are here.”

“So help me Leliana, if you tell me this was ordained by the Maker, I’ll toss you off this roof. I came here to help my friends. That is all.”

“That may be what brought you here but that is not all. Here,” Leliana said, holding out the book to her. “Take this. Read it. If after you’ve read it you still believe that you are not the right person for this task, well, we shall have to go with the Divine’s original plan.”

“Care to share what that original plan is? Her grand plan can’t involve some Fereldan nobody poking into dark corners.”

Leliana sighed. “One day, my friend, one day you will realize that you are not a nobody. Everyone has a place in this world, the trick is in finding it. I believe this will help you.” She pushed the book into Marissa’s hands before stepping back. Marissa looked down at the cover, the seal of the Seeker emblazoned across the surface. Leliana had to be breaking some sacred law in giving this book to her. She looked up to tell the woman just that only to find herself alone on the roof.

“Well fuck me.”


	9. Chapter 9

Marissa didn’t follow her friends back to The Hanged Man. After her encounter with Leliana on the roof she had needed time to process what had happened and she couldn’t do that surrounded by her companions. She needed to sort it all out before involving them; she wasn't even sure if she _wanted_ to involve them. So rather than dealing with them and questions she couldn’t answer, Marissa had disappeared from the rooftop and into the warrens of Kirkwall, holing up in an abandoned house on the edge of Lowtown.

What Leliana was suggesting was insane. Impossible really. Marissa wanted to curse the woman for putting her in this position. No one in the Free Marches wanted some Fereldan dog lord poking around, asking questions, especially people in Kirkwall. There was no hiding where she was from and there was a not insignificant contingent of Kirkwall that blamed the Ferelden refugees for all of Kirkwall’s problems. 

On second thought, she liked nothing better than annoying the citizens of Kirkwall. Annoying nobles had always had a certain amount of appeal to her. Especially the assholes.

The book Leliana had given her contained a massive amount of information about Thedas, stretching back almost to the Ancient era. Too much information to sort out over a couple of hours. There was so much that she wasn't sure where she was even supposed to start so she just paged through it, picking pages at random. How was she supposed to know what was relevant? 

Gathering all this information had been a massive undertaking. If the Seekers were capable of doing this, why in all of Thedas did they need her?

Because they needed someone who worked outside the Chantry, and, by extension she assumed, Orlais. One who wasn't bound by their rules and games. Marissa supposed she qualified under those conditions. More than qualified. Still didn’t mean she was right for the job though.

Marissa sat in the abandoned house until well past midday. She paged slowly through the book as the wind howled outside, knocking against the windows angrily. The book was more like a journal than a book really, a journal shared by several people over hundreds of years. The earlier pages were obviously ancient and yet they did not crumble under her touch. There must be some type of spell protecting and preserving the pages she thought.

Yet another instance of those who abhorred magic using it for their own benefit. Honestly, the hypocrisy of it all made her want to bash their heads in. 

“Ooo, yes, magic is so scary, must imprison all the big bad mages but look how this spell makes my hair shine. Morons,” she mumbled.

Marissa turned the page and frowned at what she saw. Bringing it closer, she tried to decipher what the words meant but only managed half of it. It was an ancient Ferelden dialect, or Alamarri maybe? No, it was closer to ancient Avvaran, it was difficult to tell. Despite the attempts to preserve the text, some of the words were almost indecipherable, making the reading go slow. 

Aldous would have been able to decipher it, she thought sourly. The man had had a talent and passion for languages, one that he had passed on to her. Had she been given more time and learning she could probably translate it herself but that was not to be, and her activities of the last ten or so years hadn’t provided her with many opportunities to expand her knowledge. Though she had availed herself to the Chantry library from time to time, even the Gallows library once, and had “borrowed” a volume or three when the urge had come upon her.

_With Urthemeil’s passing the Veil will tear….chained city falls. The skies...open and the Maker’s first children will crossover…. it is hidden….pillars reach to the sky…. It is hidden._

The rest of the passage was either faded so much that she couldn’t read it or the words were beyond her ability to translate but either way the last bit caused a thin sweat to cover her skin. The Maker’s first children. That could only mean spirits and demons. If they could cross the Veil at will without possessing a human….

Marissa slammed the book shut, not wanting to read anymore, feeling slightly ill. This. This was what Leliana wanted her to look into? The woman was mad and she more so if she accepted this quest, for lack of a better word, from her.

The words sounded like a prophecy of sorts. Wonderful. Prophecies were maddeningly unhelpful and raised more questions than they gave. And most were pure and utter bullshit.

This one though, if it was in fact a prophecy, scared the shit out of her.

She sat there for another twenty minutes, just thinking. It wasn't like her to hesitate on acting on a problem but this was unlike any problem she had ever been presented before. During the Blight she had just been a soldier, in Amaranthine she had taken on the mercenary role, sort of, and in Kirkwall, well, in Kirkwall she had expanded her talents and skills further. She had done what was necessary to survive. With the one exception of hunting down Arl Howe, it had all been what was necessary to survive, and she had a reasonable argument that killing Howe was necessary.

Finally deciding that she couldn't dawdle any longer, Marissa pushed herself up to her feet. She hesitated a moment before stuffing the Seeker’s book into her satchel, frowning at the raised silver Seeker sigil that was emblazoned on the cover. Thank the Maker she had brought her satchel with her and that the book fit in it. It was unlikely, but if she were to be stopped on the streets, she didn’t fancy trying to explain why she had a Seeker book in her possession.

The storm had passed while she had read through the book but a dark gloom still hovered over the city. Which was just fine with her as it matched her mood perfectly. 

The Hanged Man was warm if not overly bright when she walked in. There were some places where an abundance of light was appropriate and The Hanged Man was not one of them. It was mid afternoon so the tavern was only partially full but not full enough that she didn’t see an enraged Isabela marching toward her. It was cowardly but she almost turned and ran when she saw the pirate queen descending upon her.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, you better uncomplicate it real quick because it’s not just me you have to worry about.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I mean besides worrying me and Fenris to death, thinking you had been set upon by bandits or worse, we had to restrain the Choir Boy from going out to look for you. And that wasn't easy. But we've got bigger problems than you disappearing.”

“At the risk of repeating myself, I don’t understand.”

“There’s a Seeker waiting for you up in Varric’s rooms. She seem to think that you have something that belongs to her,” Isabela hissed. “Did you knick something off those Seekers?”

“Well, that’s just ridiculous. Leliana _gave_ me the book, I didn’t steal it.”

“I’m not talking about Leliana. It’s that Pentaghast woman… what book? If you tell me it’s some sacred tome I’m done. I got in trouble over a book once and it almost cost Hawke his life.”

“I don’t know if it’s sacred or not but it was given to me, I swear it.” Marissa tried to suppress a sigh. “I suppose the Seeker said I stole it.”

“No,” Isabela said slowly. “She just said that you had something that belonged to her. The stealing part was inferred.”

“Look, I didn’t want the fucking book but Leliana pretty much shoved it into my hands before disappearing.”

“Why in all of Thedas would she give you a Seeker book?”

“She said… look, I only want to explain this once. Can we go upstairs?”

Isabela pursed her lips before uncrossing her arms. “Fine. But I would prepare yourself. There are several people up there who aren't very happy with you right now.”

“Won’t this be fun,” Marissa grumbled as she followed Isabela up the stairs. The Seeker book in her satchel seemed to grow heavier with each step she took. If the Seeker wanted the blighted thing back, she was more than welcome to it. She hadn’t want it in the first place.

Varric’s rooms were brightly lit, giving no shadows to hide in. As a group everyone in the room turned and stared at her when she entered. It had been a while since she had walked into a place that held such animosity, even longer since it had all been directed at her. Her eyes briefly flicked over the others in the room before zeroing in on Sebastian. In a ridiculously short amount of time she discovered that his opinion was the one that mattered most. 

She watched him warily as he pushed away from the wall he had been leaning on and walked over to her. He stopped just inches away and just looked at her. If she was honest with herself she had expected yelling but he just stared at her. 

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, the burr in his voice thick.

“I’m fine. Just a bit delayed is all.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes as he moved in closer and took her face in both hands. He pressed his lips against hers, lingering before engulfing her in his arms and squeezing her tight to him. 

As he slowly pulled back he whispered into her ear, “You don’t get off that easy. You and I will have words later.”

Marissa rolled her eyes at that. If he thought he could treat her like an errant child, well, they would indeed have words later.

“Well, then. And here I thought that with Hawke out of the picture I wouldn't have material. It’s good to know that I've been proven wrong.”

Marissa stepped back, feeling her cheeks burn. It wasn't often that she was embarrassed but for some reason the dwarf’s words made her want to pull up her hood so no one could see the flush on her face. She tried to step away further but Sebastian grasped her hand and held her still. Glaring at him, she tried to retrieve her hand but he just squeezed it. Damn the man.

“So. This is the Fereldan Leliana saw fit to give the Seeker’s book.”

Marissa inhaled sharply, bristling at woman’s words. Her accent was Nevarran, something that didn’t help her reason for being here, whatever it was.

“What business do you have here?”

“My business is the book you carry. Leliana had no right to give it to you.”

“And yet she did. She was quite insistent about it actually.”

“Even so, I will have the book back.”

“You are welcome to try and retrieve it.” Marissa slipped her hand to her side, loosening her dagger from its sheath.

“At the risk of getting poked full of holes, might I suggest talking rather than solving this with violence? At least for the moment. If after we've discussed the matter at hand the two of you still want to kill each other… Well, I was going to say have at it but perhaps you could take it downstairs. Getting blood stains out of the rugs can be a bitch.”

Marissa slowly released her hold on her dagger but kept her gaze fixed on the Seeker. She may be Nevarran, but she held the mantel of the Hero of Orlais and though the relationship between Orlais and Ferelden was tenuous at best, Marissa had an extra place in her heart for her hatred of all things Orlesian, however tangentially related. The Seeker eyed her just as warily.

“Fine. Perhaps you can enlightened us as to why Leliana decided to give you the book.”

“She seemed to think that the Chantry’s powers were stretched too thin and too few trust it anymore for it to do whatever it is the Divine decrees must be done. She was a little thin on the details.”

“You've told me nothing,” Cassandra bit out, her eye narrowing.

“If I've told you nothing, it’s because I have little to tell. She said that what was needed was someone outside the Chantry, outside the Seekers to find the source of the evil that threatens all of Thedas. For some insane reason she thinks that person is me.”

“I fail to see how a Fereldan refugee can accomplish what the Seekers cannot.”

A low chuckle emanated from the table. Varric reclined back in his chair, sipping from his mug of ale. Setting the mug on the table, he crossed his hands over his stomach, his lips twisted in a wry smile.

“You don’t know who stands before you, Seeker, do you?”

Marissa’s throat clutched in panic. He couldn’t know. He just couldn’t. Could he?

Varric turned his whiskey colored eyes on her. “She’s a bit of a chameleon, being whatever she needs to be depending on what needs to be done. Her career started in Amaranthine; that’s the rumor anyway. Her mentor’s quite famous. If you believe in myths and fairy tales, that is.”

 _Ah crap,_ Marissa thought. _Please don't._

“If you’re trying to spin another tale, dwarf, I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh, it’s no tale, Seeker. The Young Wolf of Amaranthine caused quite a stir, gave the nobles there many a headache.”

“They deserved everything they got and more,” Marissa snapped. “They sat in their estates, fat and sated while the people starved and died. That Orlesian asshole did nothing to help the people, he let Amaranthine _burn_."

“That was a complicated situation--,” Cassandra started.

“Were you there Seeker? Over a period of months, the Warden-Commander sided repeatedly with the nobles on any and every matter. The common folk rebelled and it was completely preventable. They had little food and even less safety. Darkspawn and bandits ravaged the countryside and that bastard spared no protection for those outside the nobility. Even the nobles conspired against him. Tell me Seeker, what kind of leader is that?”

“A poor one,” Sebastian answered. Marissa flashed him a grateful glance. A pit had been growing in her stomach ever since Varric revealed her identity, worried at how it would be received. Isabela knew of course, as did Fenris to an extent, but Sebastian knew nothing of her past, or next to nothing anyway. She wasn't sure that she wanted him poking in her dark corners just yet.

Marissa would dearly like to have a word with the dwarf as to why he would bring up her past and how he thought it would help. She decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth that he didn’t reveal the more… unsavory activities she had taken part of.

“As terrible as it was, what happened in Amaranthine over ten years ago is irrelevant to the matter at hand,” Cassandra said tightly, disapproval threading through her voice. “Did you read it?”

“It doesn't take half a day to walk from Hightown to Lowtown, even by the most circuitous route, of course she read it,” Isabel retorted. The pirate was sitting crosswise in one of the chairs, one leg swinging idly as she peeled an apple with one of her daggers. It was an unnecessary show but it was all Isabela.

Cassandra ignored her as she kept her eyes fixed on Marissa. Marissa jutted her chin out, stubbornly daring the Seeker to strike out at her.

“You read it, but did you understand it? There are passages in there that no one can decipher.”

“I may be a Fereldan dog lord, you bitch, but that doesn't mean that I don’t know how to read.”

“I think perhaps we need to step back here, just take a moment--.”

“Stay out of this Sebastian. I don’t need anyone coming to my rescue.” Marissa could feel her temper rising and she wanted nothing more than to smash her fist into Cassandra’s face but she resisted. Instead she pulled the book out of her satchel and threw it down on the table. Flipping through the pages, she found the passage she had read earlier and stabbed her finger at it.

“There. See this. It’s some sort of prophecy or something. I thought it was Alamarri at first, but there are certain tricks to the grammar here that I now know it's Avvar. It references the Blight and also Kirkwall. It also mentions something hidden in a ‘place where pillars reach the sky.’ Fuck me if I know what it’s talking about but it seems like it would be important.” Marissa shoved the book across the table at Cassandra before stepping back, daring the woman to contradict her.

Cassandra stepped forward, her finger tracing down the page, stopping when she came to the passage Marissa had referenced. The space between her eyebrows wrinkled as she read the text. After a moment she raised her head and looked at Marissa, her face giving away nothing.

“I have never seen this before.”

“What do you mean you've never seen it before. It’s right there,” Marissa insisted.

“Yes, I see that but until now, I've never seen it. As in, it didn’t exist.”

“Well that’s just stupid. It obviously exists. If you try to tell me that book has magical properties beyond paper preservation, or knows who’s reading it I call bullshit.”

“I can’t explain it, but this discovery is important. It gives us a direction to go in. _A place where the pillars reach the sky._ ” For the first time, something like excitement passed over Cassandra’s face. Excitement mixed with hope, a combination not often seen these days. The Seeker turned her golden eyes back on Marissa. “Avvaran, you say? How is it that you can read and translate a dead language?”

“I had a good teacher. He was grateful to have an eager student for once.”

“Truly? Who was this man?”

Marissa almost didn’t answer, instead looking to the side, avoiding the gaze of all around her. “Someone who didn’t deserve the end he got,” she said softly. Cassandra looked like she wanted to push further but stopped at a glare from Isabela.

“So you’ve got your answer, Cassandra. Looks like you don’t need to find Hawke after all. So glad we got to spend all that quality time together.”

“I do what is necessary for the safety of Thedas, Varric.”

“Do you now? Interesting. That includes kidnapping and interrogation then?” Isabela spoke her words carefully, continuing to peel her apple but it was obvious to those who knew her that she was about to strike out if given the right amount of provocation.

“Stop it, Isabela. Varric’s safe and from the looks of it, came out relatively unscathed.” Marissa heard a grumble from his direction; she could have sworn he said _tell that to my ass_ but decided not to pursue it. “My guess is that whatever this text is referring to is somewhere in The Hundred Pillars. Go take your soldiers and search to your heart’s content. And you can have the book back. I never wanted it in the first place.”

Marissa tried to believe the words she said, she really did. She didn’t want to get involved, had never wanted to be involved. She wanted to stay unnoticed and insignificant. It had worked quite well for her for pretty much her entire life and she had no desire for that to change now.

But.

She couldn’t escape the nagging sense of obligation she was beginning to feel. The Seekers had had the book for who knows how many years and she just happened to be able to decipher a passage they hadn’t even noticed before? The whole notion was ridiculous, nearly as much as Leliana’s insistence that she was the one who could do what the Seekers couldn’t, go where they couldn’t.

Was it too much to hope to fall back into obscurity? Watching the Seekers head shake, Marissa had the feeling that her path was already set. 

Glaring at the rest of the room, Marissa took another step back and crossed her arms defensively across her chest.

“Maker's balls, this fucking sucks.”

Varric choked on his ale at her words and coughed heavily in an attempt to clear his throat before he started laughing. “Oh, Isabela, where did you find her?”

“We found each other I guess you can say.” Isabela slid her gaze to Marissa. “Are you sure? I’m sure I can find a ship and we can go find some tropical island where they serve the very best rum and the servers are scantily clad. Fenris won’t mind.”

“Fenris most definitely _would_ mind,” he growled, breaking his silence.

“Such a spoilsport you are. Like I’d leave you behind. I’d miss that glower you do so well.”

“Isabela, the flirting. Please? There’s a time and a place,” Marissa pleaded.

“Is there? Well, I don’t know about that. If one can’t flirt whenever, what’s the point?”

Cassandra looked at Marissa, a bemused look on her face. “Are they always like this?”

“Pretty much. Better get used to it.”

The Seeker nodded and paused before speaking. “Are we going to have a problem? We can’t afford a personal disagreement to interfere with a quest of this importance.”

“I take issue with the word ‘disagreement’ but, believe it or not, I can manage to restrain myself.”

“Tell that to Choir Boy’s face. If you had hit him any harder I think you would have broken his nose. You nearly laid him out on the floor as it was.”

“Isabela,” Marissa warned even as her cheeks flamed red. 

Varric’s laughed echoed throughout the chamber. Sebastian looked less than amused as Marissa tried to tamp down on her annoyance. 

“You hit the Prince of Starkhaven?” The disbelief in Cassandra’s voice only made Varric laugh harder, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes.

“It was well deserved, Seeker. And I am not the Prince of Starkhaven. That title still belongs to Goran,” Sebastian said tightly.

“I see. If we are to undertake this journey, we must prepare. If we go directly overland it will take over a week to get to the foothills. I must prepare my soldiers.”

“Oh, no. I don’t think so. Leliana said that I was the only who could do this and I can’t do this my way if we have a squadron of soldiers dogging our heels. You do whatever preparations you think need to be done but your soldiers are not coming.” 

“I will not be dictated to by some--,” Cassandra stopped, her teeth grinding in an effort to restrain her words. Marissa watched as the Seeker closed her eyes and attempted to compose herself. When she reopened her eyes, Marissa saw the annoyance still there but watched with some amusement as the older woman swallowed her pride. “You are awfully sure of yourself for one so young.”

“No one is young for long in this world, Seeker. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does get a little bloody and there's also a passing reference to past torture. I don't hate my characters, I promise.

Getting fresh air in Lowtown was a contradiction in terms but Marissa needed to get out of the four walls of the tavern. Though the rain had stopped, the afternoon was still gloomy, almost dismal. Marissa turned around the corner of the building and leaned against the wall, her head tilted back. She wasn’t sure if she could do what was being asked of her. She would do it, she would try, but she wasn’t sure if she could.

She just, she just needed a moment to breathe. That was all.

“What have I gotten myself into this time?”

“Oh, I’d say a piss load of trouble and you don’t have your rogue lover to back you up this time.”

 _Fuck._ Marissa opened her eyes and tilted her head forward. Tobias stood before her, flanked by four of his people. _Well,_ she thought, _this will be interesting._

“So lovely to see you again, Tobias, and so soon. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“A simple matter of repayment, sweetling. You owe me.”

“ _Owe you?_ For what may I ask? 

“Let me see.” Tobias held up his hand, sticking up fingers and he rattled off his list. “You broke up a lucrative business, cost me my best fighters, stole my servants, and burned my armor. And that only covers the highlights.”

“You mean I discovered you were running an illegal dog fighting ring, had three murderers and rapists thrown in jail, released your slaves, and the armor? Well, that was just ugly and needed to be put out of its misery.” Marissa sidled to the side, edging away from the wall. She already had a wall of men and steel in front of her, she didn’t need a literal wall behind her.

“You meddlesome little bitch. You’ve cost me money and six months of my life. The money I can recoup, the time in gaol, not so much, but you can pay for it in flesh. But first I want to know how you got loyal men to turn against me.”

“Andraste’s ass, were you always this thick? A girl has her secrets and do you honestly think I’m going to monologue my deeds for you? Let’s just get to the stabbing part, shall we?”

“If you insist but don’t think I’ll kill you quickly. There are--.”

The rest of Tobias’s sentence was cut off when she charged at them, taking two throwing knives from her belt and flinging them into the throats of the two men who flanked Tobias. Startled by her sudden attack, his other two men stumbled back but Tobias stood his ground. She pulled her out her daggers and spun to the right as he thrust his sword at her, the tip scraping along her ribs. 

Tobias rotated his wrist, his sword arcing around as they circled each other. He snarled something unintelligible at his remaining men as they moved to flank her. 

_Shit,_ she thought, _not good, but it could be worse._

Two more bodies dropped from the rooftops above them and took up positions behind Tobias, blocking the exit to the alley. One had his crossbow cocked and ready while the other hummed with magic, creating a barrier around Tobias.

_Oh, fuck me. Just had to go ahead and think it, didn’t I?_

There was no time for strategy, she just had to move on instinct and pray that she was smarter and faster than his new thugs. She spun into the man on her right just as he charged at her, her blades sinking into his stomach as she moved around him. Using her momentum, she rolled off his back and turned to rush at his companion. Startled by her forward attack, he stumbled back, tripping over his feet. Marissa swung her right dagger down, slashing it to the left. The blade cut into the man’s sword arm, slicing into his boiled leather armor. 

Something flickered in the corner of her eye and she just barely managed to spin around her opponent to avoid the crossbow bolt that was surely meant for her. The bolt pierced her opponent’s armor and sent him stumbling into her, knocking her off balance. It was only through sheer dumb luck that she avoided the downswing of Tobias’s sword. He had aimed for her head but the blade took her sparring partner’s head instead.

“Oh, Tobias. What’s the point in sending men at me if you’re just going to kill them yourself?”

“Shut up, you bitch. I’ve got plenty more like him.”

“I certainly hope not, they don’t seem too smart. You might want to raise your standards.”

Tobias lunged at her again and Marissa bent over backwards, narrowly avoiding his sword. Snapping upright she struck out at him but the mage’s barrier prevented her from landing a blow. In a fair fight, she and Tobias were for the most part evenly matched but the odds were not in her favor as long as that barrier protected him.

A blast of energy staggered her back several feet, slamming her against a wall. It really wasn’t fair that a mage could cast several spells at once. That type of multitasking worked great when they were fighting on your side, not so much when they were against you. 

A crossbow bolt pierced through her shoulder, pinning her to the wall, the force of the bolt causing her to drop one of her daggers. Tobias leered at her, chuckling as he approached. 

“What? No smart remark?” He stopped before her, just a foot away. He brought the tip of his sword to her neck, the edge biting into her skin. Marissa could feel hot blood trickle down her neck and seep into her armor. “I’m disappointed.”

“Fuck you, Tobias.” Marissa grabbed at the bolt, trying to dislodged it from the wall. Pain speared down her arm before it went numb. Her vision darkened briefly as she stopped. It was no use. That bolt wasn’t going anywhere.

“Ah, you’re well and good stuck now aren’t you? How does it feel to be stuck and have no way to get out? Maybe I should just leave you here and let you bleed out.”

“I’m not going to bleed out from this.”

“You are right of course.” It happened so quick that Marissa didn’t feel it until Tobias was pulling his blade out of her side. Her other dagger clattered to the ground but all Marissa could focus on was the icy pain that spread throughout her body. “A blade to the stomach isn’t necessarily a mortal wound but left unattended you will die. Eventually. The rats will find you long before you die. They’re rather nasty down here I’m afraid.”

Marissa blinked away the spots that formed in her vision. She had to focus, had to find a way to get out of this. Unfortunately her options were quite limited at the moment.

Tobias leaned forward, his rotten onion breath washing over her. Not much would have pleased her more than to vomit on him but with nothing in her stomach the most she could do was gag on the smell.

“For six months I rotted in that cell, the only company I had were the guards who brought me the gruel they called food, and they weren’t much for talking, and the rats that infested the place. And every day that I spent in there I thought of you and what I would do once I got out of there and let I’ll be honest, I went through a great many scenarios. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind, a bit too public for my tastes but I’m not a picky man.”

“How nice it must be then to finally see your dreams come to life. You’ll forgive me if I don’t congratulate you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t really expec-.”

Marissa brought her head forward, slamming it into his face. Barrier or no, the force still broke his nose, causing blood to spurt everywhere and making him stagger back. Gritting her teeth, Marissa gripped the bolt tightly and snapped off the end, swallowing a sob of pain as she pulled herself off the shaft.

Pressing her hand against the wound in her side, Marissa swayed as she forced her body to move. Turning her wrist, she released a dagger that was hidden up her vambrace. A good thing that it was there as she didn’t think she’d be able to pick up the ones she had dropped.

Tobias was holding his face, trying to staunch the blood flowing down his face. Marissa risked turning her back on him to deal with the other two. Fighting injured against a mage and a thug with a crossbow had poor odds but she didn’t have much of a choice. Ignoring the pain, she rushed the crossbowman before he could fire at her again. She feinted to one side before sliding around him, simultaneously sliding her blade into the weak spot in his armor just under his armpit and taking control of the crossbow with her other hand, aiming for the mage. The bolt went wide, merely slicing through the air beside his head but it was enough to distract him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the barrier around Tobias flicker. Maintaining that barrier for so long had to be draining the mage’s mana, she just hoped that he didn’t have a stockpile of lyrium hidden in his robes. 

The man in her arms slumped, his weight threatening to pull her down. Pulling her dagger out, she pushed him at the mage, hoping to push the mage off balance. This fight had to end soon, she wasn't going to last much longer. 

An angry roar thundered around her and it was only with years of ingrained instinct that she avoided the wild swing of Tobias’s sword but his action was enough to push her off balance, landing her on her back. Air whooshed out of her and her vision greyed out again and she knew at that moment that she would not be getting up again. This was not how she expected to die but it didn’t surprise her either. Hers was a life that didn’t lend itself toward old age.

A shadow stood over her and she again felt Tobias’s sword at her throat. The sun overhead revealed every ounce of hate he held toward her. Blood smeared his face from where he had wiped it away, lending him a demonic look. She honestly wouldn't be surprised if he was possessed by a demon, or at least influenced by one. Demons would be greatly attracted to the rage he held.

“It’s time for you to stop being a pain in my ass.”

“Just do it already,” she coughed out, she had lost blood faster than she had thought as she tried to raise her head to look at him squarely but failed as she slumped back. She really didn’t want to die but there would be no stopping it, she had nothing left. Pain coursed through her but it wasn't physical. It was the thought of leaving her friends behind, of not being able to explore whatever it was that was growing between her and Sebastian. That more than anything made her want to cry. She could see his face, his too-blue eyes taking her in, the earthy smell of him. Traitorous tears slipped from her eyes and the pain in her chest grew.

“Tears? Really Marissa, I thought you would have been above such weakness.”

“They’re not for you, you piece of nugshit.” Breathing was getting harder as her heart beat hard and vibrated in her chest, pumping her life’s blood out even faster. Her skin began to tingle, a feeling similar to right before lightning struck. 

Something bright flashed in front of her, blinding in its brilliance. Was this Andraste coming to get her? A hysterical giggle rose through her. As if the Maker’s bride herself would come to collect her. Surely she was meant for darker places.

Screams of pain filled the air, echoing against the walls. Ah, yes, that was more like it. Something was burning, it smelt of charred leather and something else, like overcooked nugmeat.

Cold seeped into her bones as sound faded. It was like sinking into water chilled by winter. Something pulled at her shoulder, poking at the hole left by the crossbow bolt. The pain shocked her out of the cold cocoon that had wrapped around her. Her eyes snapped open as her back arched off the ground. Something like a scream pierced through the air and it took her a moment to realize that it had come from her. She tried to push away the hand that prodded at her shoulder but her limbs were heavy and useless.

“I should have known that you would have been a difficult patient. Just lie still and let me see what you did to yourself.”

Marissa tried to focus but pain and blood loss made that difficult. It took a great amount of energy to open her eyes again and see what was happening. All she saw at first was a hazy figure kneeling over her, a mass of blonde curls floating around her head. Blinking again, her vision cleared and she was able to see more clearly the person who was poking at her body.

“Taran?” Her voice sounded foreign, slurred with pain and exhaustion.

“Hi there, did you miss me?”

“What?”

“You’re going to want to brace yourself. This isn't going to be pleasant.”

“I don’t-,” was all she managed to say before white hot energy poured into her, centering around the wounds in her side and her shoulder. Marissa tried to hang onto consciousness but it was too much so she just let go and submitted to the pain and let it take her under.

XXXX

Sebastian tried not to fidget as he and the others waited for Marissa to return. He had wanted to follow her but had bit back on the urge, sensing that his, or anyone else’s presence would not be welcome at the moment. It was difficult, he knew, to accept a sudden responsibility that you had never expected to bear and he also knew that it would take time to adjust to such a thing. The problem was, he suspected, that they didn’t have much time.

The others had started up an impromptu game of Wicked Grace but he couldn’t bring himself to join. Nor could the Seeker it seemed. She sat in a chair removed from the rest of them, pouring over the book that had caused a major shift in all their lives. 

He sat in a chair trying to fletch some arrows but with each minute that passed without Marissa returning the more he was just making a mess of things. Sebastian sat there for maybe another minute before he tossed down his tools and stood up, making for the door.

“She won’t thank you for barging in on her, Sebastian. Give her a few more minutes,” Isabela suggested as she played her hand, a chorus of groans following it.

“She’ll just have to get over it. She’s been gone for over twenty minutes. That’s long enough.”

He had just opened the door when the tavern’s main room went dead silent. Stepping out her saw every face turned at the entrance where a blonde-haired elf stood, struggling to hold up the person at her side. 

“Are any of you idiot shems going to help me or are you going to let her bleed to death?”

_No._

Sebastian didn’t remember descending the stairs or crossing the tavern floor. All he could focus on was the unconscious form the elf held in her arms. Marissa’s black hair was matted with blood, her armor torn and broken. What in Andraste’s name had happened to her?

“A crossbow bolt to the shoulder and a sword to her stomach,” the woman said. Sebastian hadn’t even realized he had spoken aloud. “I've slowed down most of the bleeding but I couldn’t heal her out in the street. She needs a bed and I need a private place to do what I need to do.”

Sebastian took Marissa into his arms, suppressing the panic in his gut when she didn’t make a noise as he crossed the room and climbed the stairs. Isabela and the other had come out to the landing, all silent as he reached the top. He met Isabela’s eyes, helplessness filling him. Guilt flashed over the pirate’s face as she took a step forward.

“Keep moving, you idiot, or do you want her to bleed to death in your arms?” The woman directed her attention to the others gathered on the landing. “I’ll need a private room. And hot water. Oh, and someone should do something about the bodies out in the alley. She made quite a mess.”

Varric pressed through the others and opened the door to the room next to his quarters. Sebastian passed over the threshold, ignoring the activity behind him, trusting the others to do what needed doing. There was no force on this world that would take him away from her side.

“Just put her down there. Carefully, you idiot. I don’t need you undoing my work by being clumsy.”

“I’ll not hurt her,” Sebastian said carefully. He had to force himself to remain calm, to focus on the fact that she was still breathing, even if she was unconscious. He tried not to jostle her too much as he laid her on the bed, tried not to think about how still she was. 

“I’m going to need you to move to the side, Sebastian.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“I didn’t say leave, just move to the side. Don’t make me move you, I need all the mana I have to heal her.”

Sebastian looked up and finally saw the woman who had brought Marissa in. He had been so focused on Marissa that he hadn’t seen much else.

“Taran?

“The one and only. Why are people so surprised by this? Now move.”

Sebastian stood back, feeling helpless. A feeling he hadn’t felt since he had learned of his family’s murder. 

“Give me something to do. Please.”

Taran flicked her gaze up at him as she pulled several vials of lyrium out of her robes. “You might as well be useful if you insist on hovering. Here, help me get her armor off. I can’t fully assess the damage with it on her. Is that going to be a problem?”

Sebastian swallowed, shaking his head silently as he moved to the other side of the bed. He carefully worked on the buckles, trying to be as gentle as possible so as to not jostle her. The blood soaked leather did not make it easy and in the end he pulled out his dagger and cut the straps. Her armor was essentially ruined anyway, he’d see to it that she got a replacement.

“Well, that’s one way to do it I suppose. Here, lift her up so I can pull it off.”

It was difficult work, it was almost as if the armor was fighting against them, but they eventually managed to peel her armor off. Sebastian inhaled sharply at the sight of her undertunic. Dark red blood stained the entire front; the sticky acrid smell flooding his nose. 

“Don’t you dare pass out on me now, I’m going to need you to hold her steady while I work. This isn't going to be pleasant for any of us and I need to know if you’ll hold up.” Taran stared at him, her elf eyes serious and steady.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised as he placed a hand on her shoulder, careful to not touch the wound there, and placed the other on her hip.

Taran held his gaze for a moment longer before she opened the first of many vials and downed the entire contents in one swallow. Her body shuddered as the lyrium spread throughout her system but her hands were steady as she tore Marissa’s shirt open where the stomach wound was and gently placed her hands over it. 

“Alright then. Last chance,” she said to him. At Sebastian’s furious glare she shrugged and took a deep breath. A soft humming filled the room and a blue light flowed from her hands and into the wound in Marissa’s stomach. Marissa’s arched off the bed and a thin cry filled the room. Her legs kicked out as she thrashed on the bed.

“What’s wrong? Why is she doing this?”

“She’s fighting the healing, or, more accurately, fighting the pain the healing is causing her.”

“But why is it causing her pain?”

“Because I’m knitting back together muscle and tissue, repairing severed blood vessels, and putting her kidney back together. The guy who attacked her knew what he was doing, knew exactly where to put his sword,” Taran panted, a sheen of sweat coating her skin. She reached for another bottle of lyrium with one hand, popped off the cork, and downed its contents while maintaining the healing spell. “He didn’t want a quick death for her. This would have killed her eventually but not after a lot of pain.”

“Who was--.”

“I don’t know. Some lowlife Darktown thugs. There wasn't time stop to take names but I think she knew them. Now shut up, I need to concentrate.”

Sebastian swallowed back his questions and focused his attention on Marissa, willing her to heal. Her head thrashed back and forth and he released her shoulder and placed his hand on her forehead. The skin was hot to his touch as if she burned with a fever. 

He lost track of time as he sat there, holding her. He could hear Taran murmuring something in elvish. The air smelled of magic, or what he assumed magic to smell like. Underneath it he could smell blood, Marissa’s blood and it twisted a part of his soul. She had stopped fighting against the healing and was now still, so still.

_Don’t you dare go and die on me. I won’t let you._

He gripped her hand and bent his head and prayed. For all the years he had spent in the Chantry he couldn’t remember any of the verses from the Chant of Light. The only thing he could think of was to beg Andraste to not let the Maker take Marissa away from him.

Someone was saying something. He could hear it just on the edge of his consciousness but he pushed it away, needing to focus on Marissa. The voice became more insistent until something shoved at his shoulder.

“Praying’s all well and good but I’m not done yet and I still need your help.”

Sebastian looked up. Taran was leaning over the bed, her hand gripping his shoulder. The elf looked exhausted, drained. Looking over he saw several empty vials of lyrium scattered to the side.

“What do you need?”

“Hold her up. I need to see the exit wound in her shoulder.”

“What about--?”

“I’ve done all I can for the stomach wound. The rest is up to her. Now lift her up, I’ll take care of her shirt.”

“Is it okay to move her?”

“I wouldn't ask if it wasn't. Just do it.”

Sebastian obeyed, moving from his kneeling position beside the bed to sit on it so he had a better angle to lift her up. Her head lolled against his shoulder, her breath soft against the skin of his neck. He took solace in that, knowing that it meant she still lived. He buried his head in her hair and sought the smell that was hers and not the blood and sweat that filled the air.

Taran took a small knife and cut Marissa’s undertunic from the collar to the hem and carefully spread it open. Even with his face buried in Marissa’s neck he felt a change in Taran’s demeanor, it was just the slightest catch in her breathing that first alerted him that something was wrong.

“Mythal give me strength.”

“What? What is it? Is it poison?” Sebastian raised his head and tried to see what Taran was looking at, but all he saw was the gaping hole left by the crossbow bolt and the slope of Marissa’s shoulder blades.

“No, it’s not. There’s nothing I can do. These wounds are beyond my ability to heal.”

“I don’t understand. The wound doesn't look that bad, not compared to the other one.” 

“Her shoulder will be fine. She has… other injuries. They’re from a long time ago, Sebastian. I can’t help those but I can heal her shoulder. You need to let me.”

A small part of him wanted to protest, to know what Taran was talking about but the side that just wanted Marissa safe and healthy won out. 

Taran swallowed another dose of lyrium and started healing Marissa’s shoulder wound. Being this close to Taran’s healing magic made Sebastian’s skin tingle. Sebastian watched her as she worked, saw the fatigue spread across her face. 

“How much lyrium have you taken?”

“Enough. Now shut up, I’m just about done.”

“Taran.”

“I said shut up, I need to concentrate.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to speak again but shut it just as quickly, realizing that he was interfering, the last thing he wanted to do.

Several minutes passed in silence, the only sounds were that of their breathing and the soft hum of Taran’s magic. Sebastian closed his eyes and imagined himself giving his strength to Marissa, willing her to heal, to come back to him.

“It’s done. We should probably get her out of these bloody clothes and get some fresh sheets too. Hold on a moment.”

Sebastian did as he was bade, not moving except to pull Marissa further into his embrace. He raised a shaky hand to her back, touching the warm skin there, feeling her breathe. Now that the healing was done he should really lay her back down but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It scared him how close he had come to losing her. 

He stroked his hand down her back, savoring the feel of her skin when he touched something that was neither smooth nor warm. Frowning, Sebastian turned so that he could get a closer look. Thin white scars laced her skin from her mid-back to her waist, dozens of them crossing over each other. 

“Blessed Andraste who did this to you?” His brain couldn’t function at the sight of the scars. Someone had hurt her, out of malice, and it took everything in him to remain calm. He pulled her into his arms again, enveloping her in his embrace before burying his face in her short hair. This discovery coming so close on the heels of her nearly dying was too much, he couldn’t deny what he felt. Not anymore. They had known each other a ridiculously short amount of time but he knew within his soul that he had lost his heart to her. 

His grandfather had been right. Vaels, when they love, they love fiercely and forever.


	11. Chapter 11

Sebastian was still cradling Marissa in his arms when Taran returned with fresh linens and Isabela close on her heels. The pirate looked grim, her normal jovial nature subdued. Her lips tightened into a straight line at the sight of the blood-soaked sheets. The last time he had seen her like this was after they had found Hawke's mother in that blood mage's lair. She would deny it, and loudly to any who would listen, but Isabela, in her own special way, tended to mother those she cared about. Sebastian remembered how protective she had been of Merrill and how she had gone toe to toe with Anders more than once over the little elf. That took an amount of guts and even though he disapproved of several other aspects of her life, he couldn't fault her for standing up for those she cared about.

"Well, as long as you're still holding her, lift her up so we can change these sheets, then you can leave."

"I'm not leaving her," he said as he lifted Marissa off the bed. She was a tangle of long limbs and hair, with her head lolling about on his shoulder. It worried him that she was still unconscious. Shouldn't she be awake by now?

"I don't recall asking, _shem_. I'm thinking it was more telling you to leave. Having you wringing your hands over her bedside isn't going to make her wake up any sooner," she told him briskly as she pulled off the old sheets and tossed them into the corner. Sebastian tried not to stare at them, at how much blood they had absorbed. He had to remind himself that she was still alive and would be okay.

"Come on, Choir Boy. Listen to the woman. I'd not get on her bad side if I were you. I'm not sure which of them left a bigger mess out there, her or Marissa."

Sebastian glanced up at Isabela as he carefully laid Marissa down on the bed and had to force back the gush of rage the spurt up through him. "Who did this?"

"Leave her be. I'll buy you a drink and tell you what we found."

"I don't want a bloody drink. I want to know what happened." Sebastian heard the hard edge in his voice and didn’t even try to restrain himself. His emotions had run him for a long time but his time in the Chantry had helped to temper them, except when family and loved ones were involved. No amount of prayer and contemplation could help that. 

"And I'll tell you. Just not here. She needs quiet and me kicking your ass out of this room isn't going to accomplish that," Isabela answered, tugging at his arm, somewhat unsuccessfully.

"If it helps any, and gets you out of here, they’re all dead. Your girl here took care of most of them. She's a strong one," Taran told him, wiping her forehead. The mage looked exhausted and Sebastian was pretty certain that she had taken entirely way too much lyrium but he found himself unable to regret that. Marissa would live because of her efforts to go beyond what she was asked.

"Aye, she is," Sebastian murmured, brushing a lock of her hair from Marissa's face. She had lost some of the pallor but she was still entirely too pale for his comfort.

Reluctantly Sebastian stood up and moved away from the bed. Taran wasted no time, nearly shoving him out of the room before attending to her patient. Before she got him across the threshold he snagged what was left of Marissa's armor. They had a long and difficult journey ahead of them and she was going to need new armor. Better armor, he decided, and he would see to it that it was done.

Without waiting for Isabela, he crossed the hallway and entered Varric's quarters. Varric and Fenris sat at the table, not even pretending to play cards. Cassandra sat with them, still engrossed in the Seeker book as if it held the answers to everything, and for all he knew it did. Upon his entrance all of them looked up, each with varying degrees of apprehension and anxiety on their faces.

"Taran says she'll be fine but she'll need a day at least to recover," Isabela said before Sebastian could even open his mouth.

"We cannot afford such a delay. I need answers and I need them now. I do not have time to play nursemaid."

"I’m pretty sure being a nursemaid is not part of your skillset, Cassandra. As for your answers, you're not likely to get them, seeing as the person who can translate your book there is lying unconscious in the next room. You might want to practice a little patience," Varric said lightly.

It was evident that the Seeker was not happy with that response but due to the circumstances she was forced to accept the situation as it stood. Sebastian could empathize with her frustration. Being in a situation where you knew what needed to be done but were unable, for one reason or another, to move forward was untenable at best. He had spent a good part of the last year trying to garner resources to retake Starkhaven only to be met with one obstacle after another. Few remembered him and those that did still thought of him as the embarrassment his parents had hidden away in the Chantry. Only a precious few, mainly friends of his grandfather, were willing to help him but Goran was too powerful and thoroughly entrenched in his position as Prince of Starkhaven to be easily removed. It would take an enormous amount of coin, men, and resources to oust the man, all of which Sebastian was in short supply of and was never likely to have.

So in the end he gave up his pursuit. It burned him deep down in his soul. Hawke may have killed those who had murdered his family and rooted out that Lady Harriman had been working behind the scenes but there was still justice that went unpaid. He wanted to avenge his family and retake his rightful place but there was nothing he could do. But he could do something about the matter at hand. He had a new purpose now and he intended to see it through. No matter the cost.

"What would you have us do then, dwarf?" Cassandra demanded, her eyes narrowed and her gaze attempting to burn a hole through him.

"Well, for a start, I think we can drop calling me dwarf. Yes, I am a dwarf, that can be plainly seen, but it's not like I'm a rarity in Thedas. I have a feeling we'll be working together for quite some time and the nickname has already gotten boring. 'Dwarf' is pretty unoriginal as nicknames go."

Sebastian had to smother a laugh. Leave it to Varric to bring out the ridiculous. And to think that they had once been at odds with each other. Varric had been less than subtle about Sebastian's indecision regarding retaking Starkhaven or committing himself fully to the Chantry but once he had made his decision the usual snark the dwarf aimed at him had lessened. 

“To answer your question, Cassandra, we need to make preparations. It's not going to be easy getting to the Hundred Pillars and we don't even know where to go once we get there or what we’re really looking for. I'm sure the answers are somewhere in that book of yours. I have an idea of someone who might be able to help us with the book. It’ll depend on his mood, however. He’s not always, well, you’ll understand when you meet him."

"Marissa needs new armor. We had to cut her out of her old one," Sebastian said quietly as his hands clenched around said armor. He could feel her blood drying on the leather, how it was tacky and sticking to his hands. Looking down he saw for the first time that his entire front was covered in her blood and he had to remind himself, again, that she was going to be okay.

"It so happens that I know just the guy who can help you out with that. He's a little high-strung and will most likely complain but just ignore it, he's one of the best armorers around, so it's worth it." Varric slid him a sly glance. "It’s possible he can fix her bow. Broody here told me that you rescued it from a darkspawn corpse pile. You're quite smitten with the Little Wolf, aren't you?"

It was useless to deny it so Sebastian didn't even try. And why hide it anyway? Hiding things from this lot, especially Varric, only made them dig deeper and they almost always got what they were looking for in the end. That, or he made up his own story and you had to deal with the fallout.

"Yes, I suppose that I am. Where can I find this armorer of yours and if he's as good as you say, how much coin should I bring?"

"It'd probably be best if I go along with you. I can haggle them down to a reasonable price. As for the other guy about the Seeker book... he tends to deal in favors. Oh, he'll still take your coin, no doubt about that."

"I don't suppose you'll tell me who these people are before we meet them, will you?"

"You suppose correctly my once shiny-armored friend; a little suspense and intrigue goes a long way. And it amuses me, so there’s that. Which reminds me, I think I'll have to come up with a new nickname for you. Choir Boy just doesn't really fit anymore."

Sebastian wasn't sure how to respond to that. While it was true the he wasn't a brother anymore and that he had no real ties to the Chantry besides his faith, that faith would always be a part of him. That was never going to change. What also would never change was that regardless of what he thought or said, Varric would find a new moniker for him. It was just his way.

"He bribed a couple of farmers on our way into the city to keep quiet about our passing, so you could start there for inspiration," Isabela drawled, a faint hint of pride in her voice.

" _You_ bribed someone, Sebastian? Well, that's certainly newsworthy. Next you'll be telling me that you cheat at cards. I'll have to keep a closer eye on you." Varric shook his head as he stood up. "We should get going if you want to meet with the armorer tonight. It'll take him at least a day or so to finish providing that he doesn't let his perfectionist streak get in the way."

-XXX-

The fog from that morning had burned off but the damp chill remained. The afternoon sky was still laden with clouds and looked ready to unleash its contents at any moment. Today reminded him of Starkhaven springs and one expected these soft rains there, not here in Kirkwall. The city sweltered in the summer to the point where it was unbearable to be outside for extended periods of time and the winters were mild, so to have this wild weather where it couldn’t make its mind up was rather unsettling. It felt like Thedas, the land and the weather was at war with itself with each side fighting for dominance.

He and Varric made their way up from the Hanged Man to a more gentrified area of Kirkwall that was somewhere between Lowtown’s near poverty and the obscene wealth of Hightown. Many of the city’s merchants lived here, ideal in that it had easy access to both Hightown and Lowtown markets and it enabled them to sell their wares to the appropriate audience. Almost no one in Hightown wanted to see practical linens and it was a waste of time, not to mention dangerous, to bring high end fashion to Lowtown. It also allowed them to charge exorbitant prices to their Hightown patrons by narrowing their market. 

“So did the Rivaini tell it true? You bribed some farmers to keep quiet about your passing?”

“It was simply the best way around the situation. That and I didn’t want to let our horses run wild and fall victim to bears or worse.”

“Starkhaven horses I assume?”

Sebastian glanced at Varric, wondering if the man was poking at him but he looked generally interested. “Aye, they were Starkhaven horses. My grandfather had an affection for them, one that I shared but didn’t have much chance to indulge in over the past ten years.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. I can send some lads out to get them if you want.”

“That is very kind of you Varric, but not necessary.”

“Hey, we’ll need horses anyway to get where we’re going. A jaunt up to Sundermount is one thing, but we’re talking about a significantly longer journey. I don’t intend to walk that far if I can help it. Dwarfs, with a few notable exceptions, aren’t really meant for long overland journeys. “

“You have my thanks then,” Sebastian said gratefully. In truth he was glad at the prospect of having the horses back. It would make the going much easier with mounts that they were familiar with. “I’m assuming you can ride then.”

“Oh, of course. We will have to find something more manageable than your Starkhaven palfreys. A pony maybe. Fortunately I know a guy,” Varric smirked.

“Of course you do. Is it much farther, this armorer of yours?”

“Just around the next corner here. Just remember to ignore any hysterics. They’re both drama queens. It wouldn’t surprise me if they had an ongoing bet to see who’s the biggest one.”

“As you say.”

They turned the next corner to find a squat little building with smoke billowing out from its large chimney. Sebastian tasted the acrid flavor of smelted metal on his tongue and braced himself before entering. Most of the blacksmiths and armorers he had visited in the past had kept their forges in an outside area to help disperse the smell but that didn’t seem to be the case here, so he was pleasantly surprised upon entering to encounter only a faint odor. They must have a way to vent the smoke and smell away from the building.

“Varric, you’re back. Come to steal armor from me again?”

“Now Herren, I gave you more than a fair sum for those greaves and you know it. It’s not my fault you overprice your merchandise,” he drawled as he stepped up to the counter. 

“Besides, you love a good haggle as much as I do.”

“No one loves a good haggle as much as you do Varric, that’s why you always win,” Herren sniffed. “Now what can we do for you? For once Wade has been consistently productive so I have quite a bit of stock available.”

“We need some armor repaired,” Sebastian said, holding out Marissa’s near ruined armor. He had no idea if it could be salvaged or not but at the least it would give them an idea of what was needed.

Herren started to reach for the armor but snatched his hand back at the sight of the blood and even stepped back, distaste spreading across his face.

“Repair this ghastly thing? Oh, I think not. This, this _thing_ is little more than a rag. I don’t--.” Herren stopped in mid-sentence having finally looked at Sebastian. His eyes widened in a comic display of shock and horror. “But of course we shall do whatever we can do for the true Prince of Starkhaven. Indeed we will.”

“Seems like my negotiation skills may not be needed here, or needed even more, depending,” Varric muttered softly as Sebastian mentally groaned. How he was still being recognized as the Prince of Starkhaven was beyond him. After a moment’s thought however, Sebastian wondered if the reason wasn’t standing right next to him. It wouldn’t surprise him. Varric like nothing better than a great story, whether it was true or manufactured didn’t seem to matter. Sebastian reminded himself to have a chat with Varric after they were done here; the dwarf wasn’t doing him any favors now that he had given up his pursuit.

“Wade. Wade! I need you here now. Quit fiddling with that sword, it’s as sharp as it ever will be.”

“Herren, why must you hassle me so? Is it not enough that I let you talk me into moving to the ghastly city but also into creating armor and weapons out of such ordinary materials? I’m so bored with this.”

“Wade, don’t be difficult,” Herren sighed. “Can’t you see that we have an important customer?”

“You think all customers are important Herren, but almost none of them bring me fantastic materials to play with or give me a challenge worthy of my skills. Remember when the Warden brought me those dragon scales? Oh, I created such wonderful armor then, just wonderful!” Wade sighed, his eyes taking on a far-off dreamy look.

“What about the challenge of making a set of armor for someone you’ve never met? Surely that would be something worthy of your talents, Master Wade,” Varric suggested. “All you would have to work off is this.” He took Marissa’s armor from Sebastian and handed it to the smith. Having none of Herren’s aversion to blood, Wade took it and inspected it carefully, tsking to himself.

“That certainly would be a challenge indeed. This, _armor_ , ugh, is that dwarf Gorim’s handiwork. You remember him Herren, always shouting in the Denerim market about his ‘wonderful’ dwarven crafts. He didn’t even make most of it, his father-in-law was the true smith, if rather inferior to myself, in that family. Oh, but Herren will never let me indulge in such a fantasy as creating armor for someone I’ve never seen.”

“I think, perhaps, just this one time, I can make an exception,” Herren said but added quickly at the bright light that came into Wade’s eyes. “This is a special circumstance, Wade.”

“Oh, don’t be such a fussbudget, Herren. You never let me have any fun anymore. Oh, but what materials can I use? Oh dear.” Wade turned to Varric and Sebastian, “This was either a young boy’s armor or a woman’s, I’m guessing a woman and she needed the flexibility and durability. A thief or rogue by the looks of it. Yes, yes, I can see it now. I might be able to come up with something. She’ll need that flexibility. Hmmm.”

“Master Wade, before you go off, what do you know of heartwood?”

If Wade could have gotten more rhapsodic it wasn’t possible. “Heartwood? Oh dear me, heartwood. What I would give to work with such a thing!”

Sebastian unslung Marissa’s bow. He had grabbed it before he and Varric had left. It was doubtful anything could be done for it but he had to try. “I’m afraid it’s quite damaged. I don’t know if you can--oh, well, please look at it,” Sebastian said as Wade dropped the armor and snatched the bow from his hands. 

“Hmmm, yes. Quite damaged but perhaps something can be done. Such beautiful craftsmanship. A Dalish smith did this, I have no doubt.” Wade raised his eyes to Sebastian. “You’ll really let me play with this? Oh the Maker is surely smiling down on me!”

“Now, Wade, calm yourself. We do have other orders. I don’t want--.”

“Oh hush, Herren, it’s been too long since I’ve had a challenge like this. It almost seems silly to accept payment for it.”

“No!,” Herren blurted out, then coughed. “I mean, no. I let you do that dragon scale armor for the Warden for free, but nothing more. We _agreed_ Wade.”

“Oh fine, then. Go count your coins, Herren. I have art to create!”

Herren sighed, shaking his head. “You had better make this my while, Varric. He’ll be useless until he finishes.”

“I’m sure we can come to a price that is mutually satisfying. How long do you think it will take? We don’t have much time.”

“Wade would tell you that it will take as long as it takes. I’ll say the armor shouldn’t take more than two or three days. That bow however, I couldn’t say.” Herren let out another long suffering sigh. “At least I have a good supply of stock to tide me over. The things I do for that man.

“Come back in a couple of days, I’m sure he’ll have _something_ for you by then.”

They left not long after that, Sebastian caught somewhere between amusement and trepidation. Hopefully this Master Wade would live up to his reputation.

“However did you find them, Varric?”

“Oh, the Rivaini told me about them. They had quite a business in Denerim before the archdemon and the darkspawn horde attacked. They were at Vigil’s Keep for awhile, rumor has it at the behest of King Alistair himself with the added bonus of the mighty sum from the royal treasury. I’m not surprised they didn’t stay there. As I’m sure you’re aware the former Warden-Commander wasn’t very popular.”

“Marissa has a much stronger opinion of the man and indicated as much right before she damn near broke my nose. I don’t know what all happened in Amaranthine but from what I heard he wasn’t fit for the office he was given.”

“True on all counts. Amaranthine could have used someone like Hawke during that time. The Constabulary there was overworked and even with the Dark Wolf’s aid they were only able to do so much.”

“Up until recently I thought the Dark Wolf was just a myth.”

“Depends on your point of view, I think. The man was real enough, this I know. I also know that he mentored Marissa,” Varric laughed. “Well, as much as one thief can mentor another anyway. Though he wasn’t the one to name her Little Wolf. Rumor has it that the Chief Constable at the time of the siege of Amaranthine came up with the name.”

“How is it that you know so much about her? She doesn’t talk much about her past.”

“No, I suppose she wouldn’t, but she did make quite an impression on the nobles in Amaranthine and then later here in Kirkwall. Not that they knew she was the one making trouble for them, just that they were inconvenienced in one way or another. One thing is for sure, that girl can handle herself. I think we can thank the Dark Wolf for giving her the skills to survive. I’m not sure she would have survived the attack otherwise.”

“Do you know who attacked her?” Sebastian demanded, trying, unsuccessfully, to clamp down on his anger.

“A former associate who hadn’t taken kindly to her interfering with his operations. Rumor has it she broke up a dog fighting ring he ran and freed a bunch of his slaves. That Tobias was a right bastard, I hope that Taran burned him good.”

Sebastian’s stomach clenched. They had dealt with Tobias just a day ago and he had dragged Marissa out of the situation. Perhaps that had been a mistake but at the time he had thought it the prudent thing to do. They had been outnumbered and the odds were against them.

“Maker forgive me, but I hope his death was a painful one.”

“Can’t say as I disagree with you on that account.”

They walked in silence for several minutes. Thunder grumbled overheard but as of yet held back the rain. A preternatural darkness had settled over the city and already people were lighting lanterns. 

He found himself wondering who this Dark Wolf really was, if for no other reason than to thank him for giving Marissa the skills to survive. Dark though her past may be, he found himself both thankful for her unconventional training but annoyed at the ways she used it. Either way it was more than evident that she was skilled, her lack of time in a guard cell proved that.

“How did Hawke never run across her? If she caused as much trouble as you say, it seems like they would have crossed paths at one point.” And he with him, he thought. He wondered what would have happened if he had met Marissa earlier, if he would have made his decision sooner or not.

“Well, now, Hawke had other things to worry about and the Little Wolf didn’t need to be one of them. I made a judgement call, one that I’m happy with.”

Sebastian didn’t respond. Perhaps Varric had made the right decision. Throughout the ten years that he had known Hawke the man had gotten increasingly harder on those who flirted with the law and from what he had learned Marissa had done more than flirt with it. Aveline certainly wouldn’t be amused and would have pressed Hawke into action. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder about what might have been. Chance or fate had a hand in their meeting, maybe it was meant for them to meet now as opposed to earlier.

-XXX-

Marissa felt like she was floating. She felt disconnected from everything and while not unpleasant it was definitely odd. It was difficult to pinpoint where she ended and the rest of the world began and at that moment she was content to let it be.

Something broke that stillness however, something slipped through and brought her to the surface and when it did she cursed it to the Void and back.

She had been injured before but never to this extent, never to the point to where she had thought she wouldn’t be coming back.

There was a faint sound around her, not really a buzzing sound nor a hum, she couldn’t quite understand it or fully describe it, but it was there. She only had the vaguest awareness of her surroundings and her own body and she strongly suspected that was a good thing. Her memory was sharp and clear as to what had happened but she was disconnected from the physical world, set apart from it.

She stayed like that for awhile. Just floating, no, not floating. Just, _there_.

It started in her toes first and then the tips of her fingers, quickly followed by her scalp. Physical awareness of her body was returning from the outside in. She felt the air stir on her skin, the cool feel of someone’s hand on hers, the fingers interlaced with hers. She didn’t want it. Wanted nothing to do with it. She wanted to stay in this dreamlike state but the world had never asked what she wanted, or even cared, so she knew there was no use in fighting against it. It took effort, but she did try to narrow the flow and keep the sensations from overwhelming her. Having everything come back at once would most likely knock her out again.

Long ago, even before Denerim she had learned to control pain, or at least her reaction to it. She acknowledged it, it was stupid not to, but she had learned to push through it. But this pain was different, it was more than physical. It was remembering what her last thoughts had been and the knowledge now that she might just get a second chance. Second chances didn’t come around too often, so she knew well enough to take them when they came.

The room was dim, lit only by a single candle when she finally dared to open her eyes. Light flickered softly, as if a slight breeze stirred the air. She could smell clean soap mixed with the faint odor of elfroot and felt the light touch of soft cotton bandages on her skin.

A head of russet hair rested on the bed beside her; his breath puffing softly against the skin of her hand as he exhaled. Raising her right hand, ignoring the twinge in her shoulder, she reached out and touched his hair, threading her fingers through the thick strands. She’d had her hands in it before but hadn’t really taken the time to feel its rich texture, how the strands fell through her fingers.

Sebastian stirred, raising his head so that her hand cupped his cheek. His keen blue eyes blurry for only a second before they honed in on her face. Sitting up, he raised his hand and stroked his fingers softly down her cheek, his touch more healing than any amount of elfroot or magic.

“Hi,” she murmured, a light smile curving on her lips.

“Hi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was delayed. _Someone_ thought it would be a good idea to sign up for the DA Big Bang. Silly rabbit.
> 
> Many thanks to garafthel (Sister_Wolf) for being an excellent beta!


	12. Chapter 12

“What time is it?” she asked, trying not to sound as woozy as she felt.

“Late. About two hours past sundown.” He pushed a stray lock of her hair off her face, letting his fingers linger on her skin. After a moment's hesitation he rose from the chair he had stationed himself in and sat on the edge of the bed, raising her hand to her lips, kissing each of her knuckles in turn.

“If it’s so late, you should be in bed yourself, not hovering over me.”

“It would seem that I’m having trouble leaving your side.”

Marissa paused at that, thinking on the regrets that had flooded her just before she had passed out. Now that she was more lucid and not under the threat of imminent death she could examine those thoughts more clearly. The results left her no less unsettled.

“Well, I’m hard to get rid of, like rats in a larder.” 

Sebastian’s hands tightened on hers, not quite painful but it was close. “Marissa, please, do not joke, not about that. Taran nearly drained herself in healing you. She,” he paused, closing his eyes as if steady himself. “She almost wasn't able to bring you back.” _To me,_ he thought. _Almost wasn't able to bring you back to me._

“Hey, I’m here,” she assured. She tried to sit up but her body wasn't quite ready for such action and quickly protested. Slumping back down on the bed, she scowled, her frown so endearing that Sebastian couldn’t help but smile.

“This is going to get old really, really fast.”

“I have no doubt of that. Believe me, I don’t want you to be in this bed--,” Sebastian cut off in mid-sentence, his face flushing red.

“Really? And just where do you want me, Sebastian?”

“Isabela’s a bad influence on you.”

“Who’s to say I wasn't already like this? Besides, it was your mind that went to the gutter first, not mine.” Marissa adjusted her head on the pillow, tilting it sideways. “I’m beginning to think all those wicked stories I've heard about you are merely stories.”

_Oh, my dear, you have no idea. None at all._

He picked up her hand again, tracing the skin of her fingers and around the delicate bones of her wrist. Turning her palm over, he kissed its center then moved up to her wrist where he felt her pulse jump. His lips curved before he continued up her forearm to the crook of her elbow where he nipped at the skin. At her gasp, he looked up, seeing her cheeks flushed and her pupils slightly dilated.

Marissa’s chest felt tight in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with her injuries and she was suddenly _very_ aware of her lack of clothes. The thin shift she wore did absolutely nothing to serve as a barrier as Sebastian leaned up and pressed his lips gently against hers, pulling at her lower lip. Meeting his kiss, she felt his hand smooth across her stomach, tugging the blanket down, eager to reach her skin.

Wanting more, she arched into him only to find that her body wasn't quite ready for this kind of activity and a small whimper hummed in her throat. They both pulled back at the same time, Sebastian raising his head, his face barely an inch away from hers. 

“What are we doing, Sebastian?”

“Well, _mo grhá_ , I’m sure that was fairly obvious. I’d love to provide a full demonstration but I don’t think you’re quite up to such activities just yet.”

“Sadly no, but that’s not what I meant. I mean, what are we doing? I don’t, um, it’s not like me to jump in so quickly like this. ”

“I know, Marissa, I know. Nor am I.” He rested his forehead against hers. “All I know is that while you were unconscious, you were so still, Marissa, something tore within me.” Sebastian sat up taking both of her hands in his. He marveled at how strong they were as he laced his fingers between hers. “My family was murdered by those they considered friends and I felt their loss so keenly that I broke with the Chantry, but the mere thought, just the thought, that I’d lose you? I honestly have no idea what I would do.”

“We've only know each other for such a short time, Sebastian.”

“I know, I do, it doesn't make it any less true though.”

“I thought, at first, that this was just a physical thing. You know, a quick roll and it’d be done. Hush, let me finish,” she ordered when he opened his mouth to protest. “When I was lying there, Tobias standing over me, his blade dripping with my blood, I was furious that I was going to die. It wasn't the dying part that made me mad, though I wasn't too keen on that either, it was the regret of not knowing what we could have been.”

Sebastian’s mouth was on hers almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth. His kiss was neither punishing nor gentle but it was damn well intense. His tongue swiped along her bottom lip before he nipped at it and pulled it in between his lips. Marissa grabbed at his shoulders, sliding her hands up his neck and into his hair, ignoring the twinge in her shoulder. What was a little pain when he could do such wonderful things with his mouth?

He pulled back, gasping. “I’m sorry, forgive me.”

“Forgive you? For what?” Marissa’s brows furrowed as she tried to bring her heart rate down. Surely he wasn't apologizing for kissing her. Again. “For kissing me?”

“For starting something that we can’t finish. At the moment,” he hurried when the frown on her face deepened. “I don’t want to hurt you or delay your recovery. You’ll want to be back to full health before…”

“Before what? Don’t stop there, Sebastian. Don’t go all shy Chantry brother on me.”

“Before I strip you bare and let you have your way with me,” he smiled, knowing that the quip would break through the scowl on her face.

“Let me have my way with you, huh? Is that a promise?”

“Oh aye, it’s a promise. But first, I had best follow Taran’s instructions lest she set me on fire like she threatened to do when I insisted on staying in here with you.”

“She threatened to set you on fire? Really? And just how did you persuade her otherwise?”

“I’m a pretty persuasive man, when I want to be,” he smiled gently before dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose, a laugh escaping him when she wiggled it at him. He sat up and reached for the phial Taran had given him. He didn’t doubt for a moment that the elf would singe him if he didn’t get Marissa to take the potion. Just as he didn’t doubt that Marissa would resist taking it. 

Holding the phial before her he watched as her eyes narrowed on the bottle and she scowled at him again. She looked dangerously close to pouting and he couldn’t but help find it slightly adorable.

“Now, are you going to take this willingly? I’d rather not plug your nose shut and pour it down your throat.”

“You don’t need to treat me like a child. I’m not stupid, I know it’ll help speed up the healing. I’ll take it on one condition,” she paused at Sebastian’s raised eyebrow, his head tilted slightly to the left. The patronizing look he gave her made her want to smack him but she managed to resist. “Stay with me. Stay here with me.”

Whatever he had expected her to say it hadn’t been that. She watched, fascinated, as a blush rose up his face. How could he do that, honestly. One would think he hadn’t just been practically devouring her, body and soul.

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t know what, Sebastian?”

“That it would be entirely proper.”

“You’re fucking with me right?”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. Trust her to see through his bullshit. “Oh, _mo ghrá_ , that mouth of yours, I swear. Yes, I’ll stay. I have nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Marissa narrowed her eyes at him as she took the phial from him and popped the cork off before chugging it down all in one go. Her stomach protested and she had to swallow heavily to keep it down. Maker, she hated this stuff.

“There, see? All gone.”

“Good girl.”

“Don’t get all patronizing on me, Vael. I can make you sleep on the floor.”

“I wouldn't dream of it, my lady,” he smiled gently as he placed the phial back on the table and settled back into his chair.

“What in Andraste’s name do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, sitting?”

“You’re not spending the night in that chair, you idiot. Not when there’s a perfectly good bed right here.”

“But, no, I--.”

“No buts, Sebastian Vael. When I asked you to stay with me, I meant with me, not in some blighted chair. You’ll not hurt me if that’s what you’re worried about.” And even though she knew it was playing dirty she went on to say, “I’ll sleep better with you holding me. I know I did last night. What? You think I didn’t figure it out? I smelled you on my shirt.”

Sebastian rubbed the back of his head, a faint flush still gracing his cheeks. He probably should have said something and shouldn’t be surprised that she had figured it out. She was too perceptive by half.

“You won’t hurt me, Sebastian,” she repeated. “The elfroot’s already working, half of me already feels numb.”

Sebastian dropped a kiss on her forehead before sitting down to remove his boots. Marissa had every intention of blatantly ogling him as he disrobed but the elfroot potion had other plans for her. She felt it at at the corners of her mind, trying to pull her back to sleep. Her vision started to blur but not before she caught a glimpse of his wide, tanned shoulders and a light mat of hair covering his chest. 

The room dimmed as he snuffed out the candle, leaving just faint moonlight painting the room. She felt the mattress dip as he lay down next to her and pulled the rough blanket over them. Marissa started to turn to him when his arms came around her, pulling her back flush against his chest. She felt like she was in a warm cocoon, safe from the perils of the world. Just as she slid off into sleep she felt his lips against her neck in that little crook where her shoulder and her neck joined. It appeared to be a favorite spot for him and she found that she couldn’t disagree.

It was strange to be taken care of like this, strange to have someone want her for just herself, not her skills or what she could do for them. Just her. It was strange and foreign but not unwanted. Fact of the matter was that she felt cherished and she would fight all the demons in the Fade and beyond to keep that feeling.

-XXX-

Dawn broke softly but Marissa slept through it. Sebastian could hear her breathing softly, felt the tiny puffs of air curled across his chest. Sometime during the night their positions had reversed and she now used him as one giant pillow with her arms and legs near wrapped around him. It had been several years, Maker, over a decade, since he had woken up like this and it hadn’t been often even then. Mostly he had snuck out before his partner of the night had awoken, something he had asked the Maker for forgiveness for. While some of the women he had bedded had been philosophical about their activities, he knew there were at least a couple whom he had hurt by his carelessness. Would that he could go back and smack his younger self up the back of the head.

Marissa stretched against him, a soft hum sighing part her lips, her foot stroking down his leg as she buried her face further into his chest. Sebastian’s arms tightened around her reflexively, the involuntary motion another thing he hadn’t experienced in years. Maker, what he would give to have her and not leave this room for days.

It wasn't until he felt her fingers comb through his chest hair that he realized that her motions weren't the ones of someone turning in their sleep.

“I know you’re awake, _mo ghrá_.”

“Shh. You’re dreaming,” was her mumbled reply, her voice rough and tinged with sleep.

Dreaming. Right. If this was a dream then he was a nug’s uncle.

Instead of answering that ridiculous bit of nonsense, he pulled her up fully onto his chest so that she was splayed across him, the thin shift she wore serving only as an annoying barrier between them. Oh how he would love to rid her of the garment.

“You think awfully loud for so early in the day,” she murmured as she rubbed her cheek against his chest, marveling at how soft the hair there felt. Normally she didn’t care much for hairy men but then he wasn't all that hairy really, the hair was soft and springy to the touch, not itchy at all. 

“If I think loudly it’s only because I had nothing else to do while you sleep the day away.”

“You could have woken me.” She raised her head and rested her chin on his chest and was taken in by his intensely blue eyes. Normally they were the color of a summer’s afternoon, bright and clear, but now they were darker, deeper and completely focused on her. She barely suppressed the shudder that ran through her.

“You needed to rest.”

“I've rested enough,” she declared and to prove it she sat up and straddled his hips. She watched him with some amusement at how his eyes darkened when she pulled up her shift to reveal her stomach. “See, just another scar for the collection.”

Sebastian wasn't sure if the fact that she was still wearing smalls was something he should be grateful for or not but either way he felt his groin tighten at the sight of her bare stomach. He traced a finger down the bright red line that formed the new scar, his hand pausing as he took in the other scars that marred her skin. Though none looked as serious as the one he now touched, it pained him to see proof of the hard life she had lived.

Sitting up, he pulled the shift to the side, revealing her shoulder. A faint red scar about the size of a copper rested just underneath her collarbone. He brushed his thumb over the spot just before pressing his lips to it, wishing that he could kiss it away.

Marissa let her head fall to the side as he slowly worked his way up her shoulder and neck. His hands were on her waist, his thumbs brushing softly against her skin, She skimmed her hands up his bare arms to rest on his shoulders, feeling the muscles shift and tighten under his skin.

“This is so weird,” she murmured as he placed soft kisses up her jawline. The kisses stopped at her words as he pulled back, a puzzled look on his face.

“Weird?”

“Well, yes, it is a bit, you have to admit,” she said as she traced her fingers along his shoulders, drawing invisible patterns across his skin. “I mean, if you look at it, we are an unlikely pair: a former Chantry brother and exiled prince and a woman who’s spent most of her life covered in blood and three steps away from living in the mud. It’s just weird.”

“Not so weird, I should think,” he said carefully, unsure if she was insulting herself or not. Surely she had to know her worth. “You're a survivor, we both are, and I don’t think that it will ever be your fate to live in the mud unless you purposely put yourself there. You’re one of those people who doesn't meekly accept whatever is put in your path, you fight back and you have such strength in you, _mo ghrá_ , such strength.”

His hands came up to her face, tilting it up as he kissed her. Her scent surrounded him, stirred him to delve deeper to take in more. Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her close, rucking up her shift so he could finally touch her skin but the feel of the rough scars on her back stopped him cold. Pulling away he looked at her until her eyes opened, a questioning look on her face.

“How did you come by these?” he asked, his voice rougher than he had intended. He had only gotten a brief glimpse of them when he had aided Taran but had seen enough to know that the scars were not made by any blade.

“Not now. I’ll tell you, I promise, but just not now Sebastian.” To prevent further questioning, she reached down for the bottom of her shift and pulled it over her head, baring herself to him. The action had the desired effect as his hands came up and cupped each breast, his thumbs lightly brushing over her hardening nipples. Marissa grabbed his hands, holding them as she arched into his touch.

“That’s cheating, my lady,” Sebastian groaned, leaning forward to latch onto her neck, nipping it lightly before moving down her shoulder.

“There are rules? Since when?” she asked, sliding her hands up his arms to let her fingers tangle in his hair. Now that she could touch it she couldn’t get enough of it. She let her head fall back as he worked across her collarbone, pausing to trace his tongue around the hollow of her throat. A shudder ran through her as her skin began to tingle.

She wanted to lose herself in his touch, use it to forget the pain her body had suffered over the last twenty-four hours. As his hands and mouth continued to touch and stroke her body the last vestiges of pain faded away, replaced by heat and need.

His fingers skimmed down her stomach, barely touching her but it was more than enough for her to want more. He was being careful with she suddenly realized and she didn’t want careful. She wanted that fiery and surprising kiss he had given her in the bowels of the foundry. Not that his present kisses and touch didn’t have its own appeal but she wanted the hot rush of pleasure that erased everything else.

Tugging on his hair, she brought his head up, crushing her lips down on his, biting his lower lip until he opened his mouth enough for her to slide her tongue in, tasting his and wanting more. Pressing against him she felt herself grow wet at the feel of his erection pushing up at her, seeking her but bound by the trews he’d worn to bed. Well, that wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all.

With one hand still gripping his hair, she stroked the other down his chest to the juncture where their bodies met. Slipping her fingers into his waistband, she pulled at the laces so she could reach further down. Maker, he was hot. Already his skin wore the faint shimmer of sweat but it was nothing in comparison to the heat of his cock when she wrapped her fingers around it.

Sebastian hissed at her touch, his hands reflexively digging into the flesh of her hips. The balance was tipping, and quickly, into the area where he’d have no control over his body’s response. Ten years of celibacy had worn on the control he had once prized himself at. Well, near celibacy. What happened in the privacy of his room at the Chantry in the late hours of the night by himself was something between him and the Maker. 

Reaching down he deftly pulled her hands away and pinned them behind her back. He held back just far enough so that their breath mingled but their lips didn’t touch. The flash of irritation that ran through her face forced a chuckle out of him and had him nipping at her nose before placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“Now who’s cheating?” she growled as she tried to pull her arms free but he had them pinned at such an angle that she couldn’t slither out of his grasp.

“You’re the one who said there weren't any rules, _mo ghrá_ ,” he responded, kissing down her throat, bending her backwards until her breasts came even with his mouth. Call him shallow, but he couldn't get enough of them. In his youth he had sampled all sizes and shapes and had admired them all but for all that they paled to how Marissa’s felt and tasted. She wasn't busty by any means, certainly not as well endowed as Isabela (he’d been a Chantry brother, not dead) but they were perfect.

Marissa’s mind blanked when he swirled his tongue around one of her nipples. She wasn't sure how he was able to disarm her so completely, to bring her to a point where she was willing to let him do so, but she found that she didn’t mind too much. There was always next time.

He finally let go of her arms and flipped them over and reversed their positions so that he hovered over her. Marissa arched into his touch as he placed open mouthed kisses across her chest and in the valley between her breasts. She felt his fingers stroke down her waist, tracing the line of her hips before hooking his hand under her leg and hiking it up around his waist. Marissa groaned at the increased contact even as she realized that he was still wearing his trews.

“You’re still clothed, Sebastian.” The words tumbled out messily as she tried to reach down to tug at the offending garment but he shifted his position lower, moving further down her body and away from her grasping fingers.

“That’s by design, _mo ghrá_ ,” he murmured into her skin as he kissed her newest scar, tracing his tongue around the edges. With deft fingers he pulled at the stays of her smalls and pulled them away. His hand lightly traced over the inside of her thigh, barely touching her skin as he explored. Here there were no scars, here her scent flooded over him.

He dipped his tongue into her bellybutton as he let his fingers graze over her wet curls. Heat washed up her as she tried to push into his touch but he was patient and deliberate in his ministrations, nipping at her other hip as his fingers teased through the curls and brushed against her swollen clit. Gasping, Marissa arched into his hand, blindly reaching down to him and finding his hair with one hand as the other flung out, grasping the sheets tightly.

Pressing his thumb against her clit, Sebastian slowly traced circles around it as he slid one finger then two inside her, curling them up into her. Marissa’s body clenched around them, her hips arching off the bed. Before she could catch her breath his lips replaced his thumb, licking and sucking until Marissa’s vision blackened. He had undone her, with a few touches and kisses he had undone her, undone her in a way no other had managed. 

“I can’t, I, Sebastian…” 

And suddenly he was there, his lips nipping at hers, his body settling in over hers. Somehow his trews had disappeared and she could feel the hot press of him against her thigh. They tangled lips, teeth, and tongue and still it wasn't enough. She reached for him, wrapped her arms and legs around him to keep him close, wanting to hang on to each sensation even though it was almost too much.

“Sebastian, please,” she begged, her voice breathy in a way she had never heard it before. His touch was still gentle but the reaction he was effecting was anything but gentle. She couldn’t claim any great experience in matters of the bedroom but her past encounters paled in comparison to this and she seemed incapable of making him move faster than he wanted to. Stubborn ass.

Sliding her legs up she wrapped them around his waist, using their strength to pull him closer. Her fingers dug into his flesh, hoping it would push him into action. She had always scoffed at the novels Isabela loved to read where they talked about a person burning up from need but she believed them now. If he didn’t get inside her soon she was certain that she would explode.

Sebastian framed her face in his hands, pulling back slightly so that they could see each other's eyes. His pupils nearly eclipsed the irises, that bright blue darkened to a deep sapphire and then she felt him, testing her slowly, easing in. Marissa let her eyes slide close as leaned up to capture his lips but he held her back, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

“No, _mo ghrá_ , I would see your face this first time,” he whispered as he sank in further, filling her fully. There was no pain, no discomfort, no need for adjustment, they fit just perfectly, seamlessly. Marissa rocked her hips against his in silent encouragement to get him to move and for once he was inclined to cooperate. 

He kept their faces apart, meeting her eyes as he slid slowly in and out of her and it only made the experience that much more intimate and intense. She watched, fascinated, as a myriad of emotions washed over his face and knew that she reflected the same back to him. Their pace quickened and Marissa found it increasingly difficult to maintain eye contact with Sebastian. He changed the angle of his thrusts hilting himself deep within her. Her breath hitched in her throat as a wave of heat rolled up her, her core spasming, the muscles tightening around his cock. 

Something snapped in both of them at that point. Marissa’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as Sebastian’s head dropped into the crook of her neck, his teeth and lips latching onto the spot, worrying it as he spilled himself into her. Her limbs tightened reflexively around him, pulling him in close and holding him there. She felt their combined pulsing, heard it rushing in her ears. He had rendered her deaf and blind and she found that she couldn’t complain too much about that.

Marissa let her eyes drift closed as she loosened her grip on him, letting her legs drop to the bed, their muscles quivering. She kept her arms around him but in a softer hold, smoothing over his back and settling around his waist. 

“Wow.”

Sebastian raised his head, his eyes slowly returning to their normal color but no less intense. “Wow?”

“Yes, wow. I wasn't expecting that,” she responded, letting her fingers trace invisible patterns along his ribs. Sebastian suppressed a shudder at her touch and focused on her face.

“And just what were you expecting?” he asked carefully.

Marissa turned her head to the side, suddenly embarrassed by her involuntary reaction to their lovemaking. And there was no other real word for it. It was definitely not the quick shag that she had been expecting but she was smart enough not to say those words aloud. So she evaded.

“I’m not sure, but not that.”

“Marissa.” Sebastian gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. “I would know what you mean.”

“Do we have to analyse it, Sebastian? Can’t we just lie here and enjoy it?”

“No one has touched you in that way before, have they?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I've had sex before.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s been many years since I've enjoyed such pleasures as this but I have a clear memory of those times and it was never like this. Never had someone quite fall apart in my arms like you did.”

“If I did it was because you didn’t give me much of a choice. You were quite persistent in having it your way.”

“It would have been over too quick if we had done it your way and I didn’t want our first time to be like that.”

“Aw, you softie. Ever a gentleman,” she smiled, raising a hand to his face to cup his cheek.

“Not so much of one that I would stay away from you as Fenris told me to.”

“Fenris did _what_?” she screeched and tried to sit up but was only able to push herself up on her elbows what with Sebastian still laying on her with no inclination of moving.

“He said I was too old for you but--.”

“That pointy-eared bastard. He has no right to dictate--.”

“If it helps any, Isabela warned me off as well. They both care for you, _mo ghrá_. They’d not see you hurt.”

“They’re the ones who are going to be hurt if they think they have any say who I let into my bed,” she growled. “I’m a grown woman more than capable of making my own decisions.”

“Clearly, but I think they were more worried about me and the vows I had made.”

Marissa looked down to where their bodies were still joined and raised an eyebrow at him. “I think it’s pretty obvious you do not hold yourself beholden to your vows any longer.”

“Agreed, but they knew me during a time when I struggled between maintaining my commitment to the Chantry or avenging my family and retaking Starkhaven. From their point of view, I can’t blame them for their concern. I... what was the word Hawke used? Ah yes, I waffled. Waffled quite a bit.” He paused. “One could say I took too long and lost both the Chantry and Starkhaven, all because I couldn’t make a decision until it was too late.”

“Sebastian,” Marissa said softly, leaning up to kiss him. “We've all made choices we regret. The only thing we can do is to learn from them and move on. Speaking of moving, get off. You’re heavy.”

His lips curved as he flipped them over, settling her over his chest. He stroked his hand down her back until he felt the rough scars marring her skin. 

“I got them during the Blight,” she answered his unspoken question. “In Arl Howe’s dungeon to be precise. I was young and foolish and angry enough to think I could break in and kill the man who had slaughtered the people of Highever. Imagined my surprise when I got caught.”

“These were not made by any blade,” he said tightly, trying to control the anger that built in his chest.

“No, they were not. Howe’s dungeon was not just a place to keep prisoners. However horrible and terrifying the darkspawn are, they have nothing on the cruelty that people can inflict upon each other.” Marissa hesitated, remembering her time in that dark place, remembering the pain and fear.

“I don’t know how he recognized me. I was just an orphan the Couslands had taken in after a disease spread throughout the city, killing the seemingly hale and healthy, my birth parents included. The Couslands took me into their household when they could have just sent me to an Chantry orphanage. I never knew why.” Marissa hid her face in Sebastian’s chest, composing herself. “Anyway, he recognized me, called me the mongrel pup the Couslands had taken pity on and tossed me in one of his cells. I think it really pissed him off that someone had survived his sacking of Highever. Any other would-be assassin would have been killed outright but he had special plans for me.”

“Did he…” Sebastian swallowed and had to force himself to keep his body relaxed. Something he realized that he failed at spectacularly when Marissa raised herself up and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“No, not that. I don’t even think that rape entered his mind. He was much more intent on causing physical pain. He used a whip and left the wounds open long enough for them to start to scar before he had one of his guard force healing potions into me and then it would start all over again. If it weren't for the Warden and her companions I probably would have died down there.”

Sebastian couldn’t think of any other response but to pull her closer, wanting to protect and comfort her at the same time. His heart ached at the thought of her being so helpless.

“So I’m guessing this is the reason why you keep an armory of knives on your person. I stopped counting after twenty.”

Marissa’s lips curved as she placed a kiss on his chest before looking up at him. “You didn’t check my boots then I’m guessing.”

“Oh aye, I did. I said I stopped counting, not that I stopped finding them. Your armor is a loss I’m afraid.”

Marissa sighed. “Not surprised. I’ll have to go visit an armorer I guess. Maker’s balls I hate shopping.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he already had the matter well in hand but he made a snap decision to wait. He found himself wanting to see the look on her face when he surprised her.

“I suppose we should get up and get dressed before Isabela breaks down the door. Besides, I’m hungry.” Marissa sat up, letting the sheet fall down to her waist, looking around the room. “I don’t suppose you know where my shirt went?”

“Hmm?” was Sebastian’s response. Marissa turned her head back to him and, noticing where his gaze was directed, rolled her eyes.

“Come on, you pervert. We need to get dressed. Things to do, people to see and all that.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to garafthel (Sister_Wolf) for being an awesome beta and putting up with my bullshit.


	13. Chapter 13

Marissa managed to find her shirt and her smalls but trousers proved to be a more difficult problem. She found her leathers but they were so soaked in blood that the mere thought of putting them on made her feel slightly ill. She stood there in the center of the room wearing naught but her shirt and a puzzled frown on her face.

“We’ll find something for you to wear, don’t worry.”

“As long as Isabela’s not picking it out I’m not too particular,” she mumbled, tossing the leathers across the room. It suddenly hit her again just how close she had come to dying. Turning toward Sebastian she barreled into him, locking her arms around him in a fierce hug. She felt him rest his cheek against her head, his hand moving in soothing patterns down her back. 

“Well, I can see that you’re feeling better. That makes things easier.”

“Yes, good morning to you too, Taran. Why don’t you just come on in?” Marissa turned her head and gave the elf a baleful stare.

“This was a sickroom the last I left it, so I feel no guilt on coming in here even if you are half naked. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”

“Speaking of my half-nakedness, you didn’t happen to bring any fresh clothes with you? It appears that my old ones are destined for the garbage and I’m in need of new ones as I’d rather not traipse around Kirkwall half naked.”

“It just so happens that I did. Now, you, get out,” Taran ordered, pointing a finger at Sebastian. “I need to examine my patient.”

Sebastian dropped a light kiss on Marissa’s lips before stepping back. “I’ll be right next door when you’re ready.”

After Sebastian left, Marissa turned to Taran, her arms crossed over her chest. Taran just stared back at her, her wide eyes narrowed in speculation. “You know, considering how badly you were injured I wouldn't have thought that you’d be up for bedroom antics so soon. The two of you had better not have undone my hard work.”

Marissa just smirked, catching the britches Taran tossed at her. They were made of soft doeskin and fit surprisingly well considering she hadn’t had a hand in picking them out, Isabela’s influence no doubt. The pirate had an excellent eye for sizing. 

She started to lace up the shirt but Taran interrupted, pulling the collar to the side to inspect the shoulder wound then lifting up the hem to look at her stomach. Marissa felt light tendrils of Taran’s magic weave in, gently inspecting the injuries. She tolerated Taran’s poking and prodding with a roll of her eyes, waiting until Taran pulled back, a thoughtful frown on her face.

“Well? Do I pass muster?”

“I guess you’ll do. You heal fast, for a shem that is.”

“Gee, thanks. I guess,” Marissa replied as she pulled the shirt back into place and tightened up the laces. Hunting around for her boots she spared Taran a glance. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but why are you back in Kirkwall? Last we spoke you were dead set on finding some tropical island.”

“I don’t really know. Trust me, I’m just as surprised as you are.” The elf fidgeted with the cuff of her sleeve. “Something pulled me back here. Pushed might be a better word though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had a dream and I've had enough of these types of dreams to listen to them.”

“A dream?” Marissa said slowly, straightening up, her eyes never leaving Taran. “Do you walk the Fade?”

“No, no, not really,” Taran said, her fingers continuing to tug at her sleeve as if her robes were itchy. “I can’t really explain it. I’ve always had this, _ability_ , and I learned the hard way to pay attention to my dreams.”

“So you came back because a dream told you to,” Marissa said carefully, watching as the other woman jutted her chin out sharply, as if daring Marissa to hit it.

“Yes, I did, and it’s a good thing I did as you would be worm food this morning and starting to rot instead of enjoying what I can only assume to be some amazing sex.”

“Not going to lie, it was pretty amazing.” Marissa stepped forward and placed her hands on the elf’s shoulders. “I owe you my life, Taran. I won’t forget that. Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, no need to get all mushy about it.” Taran tried to brush off the compliment but Marissa could see that her thanks had struck a chord with the elf. She guessed that Taran didn’t often receive thanks for her efforts.

“So what was it about this dream that made you feel as if you needed to come back here?”

“You mean besides seeing you lying in a pool of your own blood with your guts all tangled up?” Taran asked sharply before taking a deep breath. “The images were jumbled and didn’t make much sense. It was like being in the Fade, but not; the landscape wasn't twisted and unnatural like it is there. I saw a battlefield with hundreds, maybe thousands of people dead, probably more. There was a darkness that hung over them, so dark and black and so angry. It tore through the land, destroying everything it touched.

“I think I saw what would happen if you had died in that alley. You are connected to whatever is happening to Thedas. Forget the Mage-Templar war, that’s nothing compared to what’s to come.”

Marissa was silent for a moment, trying to wrap her head around what Taran was telling her. It couldn’t be a coincidence that she had found that prophecy in the Seeker book and Taran having this dream. She didn’t believe in coincidences, especially in cases like this.

“In the dream, did you see a great rift in the sky? Like someone tore a hole in it?”

Taran went beyond pale, her skin turning ashen as she stumbled back, collapsing on the bed. “How do you, how could you possibly know that?”

“A certain book came into my possession. It contained what can only be described as a prophecy -- or the ramblings of a mad Avvaran, who’s to know -- but it mentioned a tear in the Veil and nothing good can come from that.”

“A book? What book?”

“Some archive of events that the Seekers have been collecting and storing for Maker knows how long. An old acquaintance pushed it on me. She seemed to think that I could solve the riddle that I’m guessing that hundreds of Chantry scholars could not. A notion I’m still finding a bit ridiculous to be honest.”

“You say this so-called prophecy was in ancient Avvaran? There’s not too many people alive who could decipher that. My clan came across an Avvaran ruin once when we in Ferelden. Our Keeper was fascinated by them, studied them for weeks before a bunch a shem attacked us. She would spend hours in there, just staring at the runes and writings. I don’t know that she was able to decipher more than a few words and she was the smartest person I knew.”

Marissa remained silent on the way Taran had referred to her Keeper in the past tense, and wondered if perhaps there was a tree growing somewhere in Ferelden.

“I had a good teacher and was a willing student, unlike his other charges,” Marissa said, trying to bring Aldous’s face up in her mind. His image had slowly faded over the years until he was almost a shadow in her memory. The old scholar had imparted his knowledge and love of languages on to her and it caused a slow burn in her heart that she couldn’t picture his face fully anymore.

“Even so, that’s impressive and I doubt you’ve spent much time in your shemlen libraries the last few years. Learning a language’s a constant process, without use it gets rusty.”

Marissa quirked her lips, glancing over at the elf. “It could be that I’ve plundered a couple of Avvaran tombs over the years. Helped to keep my skills sharp.”

Taran merely rolled her eyes. “Of course you did. Might not want to mention that in front of the Seeker though. She seems like a strict law and order type that doesn’t bend easily.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now, what does a girl have to do to get some food around here?” 

-XXX-

Marissa hadn’t realized just how late in the day it was until she and the others stepped outside The Hanged Man. The sun, having fought off the clouds of yesterday, hung high in the sky glaring down at them as if annoyed that it had work to do. Steam rose off the streets, bringing with it the rotten stench of garbage and other things better not talked about.

Breakfast, or lunch rather, had been a tame if filling affair. Marissa had forced herself not to swallow it all down in one gulp, not realizing just how hungry she was until Norah had placed the bowl of stew in front of her. Sebastian had hovered over her even though he tried to appear that he wasn't. It was sweet but she hoped that it wasn't going to be a continuing theme. He would reach out and stroke his hand down her arm or tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. At one point she had grabbed his hand and just held it if only to keep it occupied so she could finish eating in peace.

She had given both Isabel and Fenris a defiant glare when she had walked down to the main room, daring them to say anything about her sleeping with Sebastian. Fenris had actually opened his mouth to say something but Marissa had just pointed her finger at him and shook her head.

“My life, Fenris. My rules,” she had said. The elf had paused for a moment before nodding slowly, accepting her decision. Isabela had just smiled at her, her eyes promising that she would be asking for details later.

Cassandra had just glared at her, was still glaring at her in fact as they walked through the streets of Lowtown toward the Undercity with Varric in the lead. It was plainly obvious that the Seeker wasn't used to following others and it burned her to have to do so. She had demanded to know where Varric was taking them but the dwarf was evasive, saying only that he knew a guy who perhaps would have a way to help them decipher more of the prophecy Marissa had found.

Marissa felt almost naked without her armor. Fortunately her boots had come out of the encounter unscathed so at least she was able to stow a couple of her knives there but she felt exposed and vulnerable, two things that did not sit well with her. She would have to scrape up her coins to get some new armor and pray that she could find something that would meet her needs. Armor was relatively easy to come by but good armor that allowed her to move and free-run across rooftops was another thing. 

It didn’t help that Sebastian, Isabela, and Fenris were flanked around her, creating a barrier between her and the rest of the world.

“You know, it comes to me that, even without my armor, I’m not completely helpless. I don’t like being hovered over.”

“I’m sure, sweet thing, but having some protection between you and pointy things can’t hurt.”

“Says the woman who traipses through battles wearing thigh-high boots and a scarf.”

“It’s all in how you use it. Besides, I've got the major parts protected; you, on the other hand, don’t.”

Marissa sneered at Isabela even as she was forced to concede her point. The heavy necklace she wore protected her neck and while her corset looked like just a corset, Marissa knew that it was inlaid with more than just boning. Sure her boobs were on display but Isabela used that to her advantage as well. Men, well most men were rather predictable when it came to women’s breasts.

Varric led them deeper into the Undercity, leaving the sun behind them. They were entering an area that Marissa wasn't familiar with and that made her even more uneasy. Glancing over at Sebastian she could see that while he remained observant of his surroundings he didn’t seem to be too concerned about where Varric was taking them.

“You seem to be familiar with this place,” she called ahead to Varric.

“I've been down here a few times. Hawke would drag us down here when he thought he could find some rare relic or ingredient. It’s not exactly my favorite part of Kirkwall but you can find things down here that you can't anywhere else.”

“I've never seen this part of the city.”

“Few have, Little Wolf. One needs an invitation to go where we’re going. Fortunately, I have a lifetime membership.”

Marissa tried not to grind her teeth at the nickname. She had left the Little Wolf behind her when she had left Ferelden and didn’t like that it had followed her here. She hadn’t liked it when it had first been given to her but she had tolerated it. Once she had gone her own way however, she wanted her own name, not one given to her on a whim by a man who had died over ten years ago. It was Nathaniel’s fault that it had lasted when they were still in Ferelden, it shouldn’t have followed her to the Free Marches, but it did.

Adjusting the strap of her satchel on her shoulder, Marissa followed Varric and the others further into the Undercity. Though this area didn’t smell as bad as the Dark Foundry it was just as creepy, if not creepier. It was the stillness she realized. In the Foundry there was always some kind of noise whether it be rodents of unnatural size or the whisperings of blood magic but this place almost seemed as if it stood still, stood apart from the rest of the world. 

They walked along a raised planked walkway. Marissa kept a wary eye about her as they moved from one shadowed area to another until they finally reached what could only loosely be described as a building. It was old, possibly the oldest thing in Kirkwall and it looked it. The walls were patched with varying types of stone and wood as if the occupants scavenged for materials and took whatever they could find. Lanterns were spaced at unequal distances, bringing some areas into sharp relief and plunging others into dark and deep shadows. It was a draw as to which Marissa preferred.

Cassandra walked just ahead of them, her spine stiff as she kept a loose grip on her sword. Marissa idly wondered just how far the stick up her ass went. The Seeker hadn’t been happy about this trip into the Undercity but lacking any other options to help decipher the prophecy she was forced to go along. Taran hadn’t been wrong when she had described the woman as a law and order type as well as pious and devout in her commitment to the Divine. Even though the woman made her hackles rise, Marissa couldn’t deny that Cassandra was committed to ending to chaos that threatened Thedas. She was still a snooty Nevarran though.

“What’s got your face all scrunched up like that, sweet thing? You look like you’re having uncharitable thoughts. Wanna share?”

“It’s nothing important, Isabela. I don’t like being down here,” she said quickly, changing the subject.

“You’re telling me. Every time Hawke tried to drag us down here I suddenly had important business elsewhere. Xenon may have a treasure trove of loot but it’s not worth it.”

“Xenon? We’re going to see _Xenon_? As in Xenon the Antiquarian?”

“The very same. Let’s just hope we missed bath time.” Isabela let out a shudder before continuing on.

Marissa looked up at Sebastian. “I suppose you’ve been down here before too.”

“Aye. Hawke managed to get each of us to follow him down here once or twice. I think Merrill was the only one who didn’t mind going with him. Xenon is… unsettling.”

Unsettling. Well, that was just wonderful wasn't it. She’d heard rumors of course of the man, or what was once a man and none of them were very pleasant. 

They finally came to a large door. Lanterns hung on either side, each swaying slightly in an invisible wind. Marissa watched as Varric rolled his shoulders before opening the door.

Apparently even the dwarf had reservations about coming down here.

“I’d tell you all not to stare, but, well, that’s just not possible. Just try to be as discreet about it as you can,” he said as he pushed the door open.

Entering the shop, Marissa couldn’t believe what she saw. Piles upon piles of merchandise, ingredients, and relics scattered across the room but the room’s centerpiece caught her attention and she could only stare.

Unsettling didn’t even begin to describe what she saw.

What had once been a man sat in a chair, its body twisted and desiccated. Its mouth was frozen open, its eyes empty holes. How in the Maker’s name could this thing be still living? Cassandra had stopped a few feet past the door and just stared, her mouth gaping open and Marissa knew that her own face mirrored the Seeker’s expression. Even darkspawn weren't this hideous and unsettling. Darkspawn hadn’t had a choice in their making, Xenon had.

“Well, well, what brings you back to my doorstep, Master Dwarf? And with so many friends too? Do you intend to... invade I wonder?” The voice echoed around them, punctuated by the phlegmy cough of one who was at the end of their days. If the tales were true, that day were never come for Xenon unless someone took it from him.

“Only to peruse your stock, Xenon,” Varric answered. Marissa couldn’t be sure, but it seemed that even Varric was slightly unnerved. 

“You did... explain the rules to them I presume?”

“Yes, no manhandling the urchin, don’t take anything we don’t intend to buy or suffer the golem’s wrath, I remember. We’re looking for books on the Avvarans and if anyone were to have them it would be you.”

“Ha! The Avvarans. Barbaric heathens. How they managed to attain the written word is beyond me.”

Marissa stepped forward, letting her eagerness overpower any reservations she had about approaching Xenon.

“Then you have books on their language then? On their rune writings?”

Even though the creature in the chair didn’t move Marissa felt the full weight of it attention. She like to think that she was pretty liberal-minded when it came to magic, but the thing in front of her was not human, not anymore, it was an abomination, an example of human ambition and greed gone too far. It was all she could do to keep her lunch in her stomach.

“Aren't you a curious thing? Of what use... is a dead language to you? You seek... knowledge, yes? You seek... ancient wisdom from those who come before?” The creature cackled loudly before it was overcome by wracking coughs. “Be wary... of ancient wisdom young one, it will not always lead you to where you want to go.”

Taran snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. Unlike the rest of them, she didn’t seem to be put off by the creature in front of them.

“I know you have the books, Xenon, quit messing around.”

Marissa felt the weight of Xenon’s attention shift away from her had had to shake off the clammy feeling left behind. She desperately hoped these books were easy to find and worth the experience of interacting with Xenon.

“Well… if it isn't my little elf. Come for more... trinkets, hmm? No discount this time I’m afraid... fresh, out of favors, unless-.”

“No, I think not. The dwarf has the coin you want,” Taran said quickly, barely holding back a sneer. Marissa wondered what favor had been owed but thought it wiser not to ask. There were some things a person was better off not knowing.

“Very... well. Pity. You’ll have to look around. The urchin is... still working on his organization skills.”

Marissa glance over at the child. He was so still that one would almost think him to be a flesh-colored statue until you saw his chest rise ever so slightly when he breathed. Was he here by choice, or was it by someone else’s doing? Marissa wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to that either.

“I don’t suppose you can read ancient Avvaran, Xenon?” Taran asked. “It would save us some time.”

"Alas, languages... are not a pursuit... of mine." 

“Figures. That would be too easy. I suppose we'll have to settle for a secondary source, something more than the scribblings in the Seeker book,” Marissa said. As soon as she spoke she felt the full weight of his attention again, could feel him pressing in on her brain and deeper. It made her skin crawl and she wanted nothing more than to leave this place but they needed more information than half an alleged prophecy and Taran’s dream if they were to do this thing.

“Yes… a second source. I must admit to be surprised that one so young would be wise enough to know to look for such a thing. One can find… all manner of things here. If one knows… how to look.”

Marissa pushed back at Xenon’s intrusion, trying to rid herself of the slimy feel that coated her skin and the greasy ball of nausea that curled in her stomach. She stepped back from Xenon’s throne, hoping some distance would lessen the pressure. Turning away, she moved to a far corner of the store. Books were piled high, haphazardly stacked next to each other with no seemingly logical method of organization. She frowned in frustration as she stared at the stacks. Perhaps she would get lucky and find what she needed right away. It was doubtful though as she was pretty damn sure that she had used up a life’s worth of luck in the past few days.

Marissa poked at the shelves, inhaling the familiar scent of parchment and ink. It was comforting and brought back memories of the times she had snuck into the library at Highever with a small stub of a candle and whatever treat she had managed to nick from the pantry and read to the late hours of the night. At the time she had thought she was so clever but she should have known that she wasn't fooling Aldous, not when there would be a candle left burning on one of the tables and a different book lying next to it each night. 

She smiled at the memory. He had never said anything, never lectured at her but had answered her many, many questions with the patience of a man who knew that true learning came from asking questions rather than memorizing things by rote.

Time passed and the lanterns flickered around her as the shaft of light that filtered through the ceiling slowly began to fade. Marissa tossed the book she had been paging through aside in disgust. She must have gone through over twenty books and none of them had anything to do with the ancient Avvarans. Of what use was a book on Orlesians sauces, honestly? And what was their obsession with drowning their food in one type of sauce or another? Marissa allowed that they had pretty good taste in wine, as far as wine went, but their food she could do without. 

Rolling her head side to side she tried to work out the kinks in her neck, the ache a familiar one, one that she hadn’t experienced much in the last ten years. She was rubbing the back of her neck when something at the edge of her vision caught her eye. In the corner of the alcove where she sat stood a tall mirror encased in a large wooden frame. It was warped and spotted with age but it was the item sitting on top that grabbed her attention. Standing up, she walked over to the mirror, reaching up to grab the cloth-covered item. She had to stretch up, standing on her toes before she could pluck at a corner of the cloth and pull it forward and down. 

The damn thing near fell on her head and Marissa had to reach out and steady herself by placing a hand on the mirror. Something shot up her arm, a thousand tiny prickles wrapping around her skin. Looking into the mirror she saw her face but it seemed just slightly… off. Her grey-blue eyes stared back at her, the outer edges of the irises more silver than grey. With her face less than an inch away from the mirror she was able to see the faint shadows smudging the skin under her eyes, turning her normally light-brown skin slightly ashy. 

“Maker’s balls, I look like crap,” Marissa grumbled to herself. She didn’t really think of herself as a vain person but that didn’t mean she wanted to look like something dragged out of a broodmother’s nest.

She was about to pull back when something... _shifted_ in the mirror, like a shadow moving across a darkened plain, barely there but no less present. It was like the room’s reflection in the mirror was shifting, and her with it.

Marissa watched, slightly horrified as fine lines grew on her face, first spreading out from the corners of her eyes and mouth and then across her entire face. Her skin turned paperthin, the way it does as one ages; her grey-blue eyes clouded over, staring back at her blindly. Air grew tight in her chest as she felt strength leaching from her body and frailty entering. Words came fleetingly and left just as quickly until she was little more than a bag of skin and failing organs. 

Sagging against the mirror she tried to call out but no words would go past her lips, barely any breath did. Whatever this cursed thing was, it was killing her. 

Something dug into her, poking sharply into her side. It weighed on her arm, dragging her down. Marissa’s hand slipped on the mirror, her head thumping against it’s surface and everything shifted again, the world righting itself. Pushing herself away, she was relieved more than she cared to admit that she was back to her normal self. Her eyes clear and sharp and now slightly angry. 

“Marissa?”

Marissa turned, finding Sebastian standing behind her. A frown marred his lips, concern written plainly across his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Liar. You look worn out. You should have rested more.”

“You sure know how to flatter a girl, Sebastian. I said I’m fine.”

“Har! Looking… into the mirror. It’s, ahhh… not recommended.”

Marissa glared at the creature sitting in the middle of the room. She hated this place and hated that thing and the time they had spent here was wasted. They would have better spent their time digging through the bowels under Vigil’s Keep in Amaranthine than in this place.

“What mirror?”

“It’s nothing, just a stupid mirror.”

“Not so stupid. Xenon, you should know better than to keep this thing out in the open,” Taran said, walking over to where Marissa and Sebastian stood. The elf briefly placed her hand on Marissa’s forehead before Marissa jerked away. Andraste’s tits, she was tired of being poked at.

“I am... a proprietor of antiquities, young elf, and that… is an antiquity. Where else should it be?” Xenon demanded, his voice croaking with laughter until it filled with phlegm and he started coughing. Marissa hoped he choked on it.

“Occupying a dung heap,” Taran muttered softly so that only they could hear. Cocking her head to the side, she looked down, one of her eyebrows arching upwards. “What is that?”

Marissa looked down, her eyebrows scrunching together. She pulled at the cloth, revealing an old leather bound book with Avvaran runes inscribed on its cover. A sharp bark of laughter escaped her as she read the title, written in the common tongue.

“ _Our Barbarian Ancestors: An Incomplete History of the Avvaran Peoples_ by Elorn an Thane Or Stormhold. Finally, a history not written by Brother Genitivi. I wasn't sure such a thing existed. Varric, time to empty your coin purse, I think I've found what we came for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to garafthel (Sister_Wolf) for making sure this isn't the ramblings of a mad woman. Well, it probably still is, but less so.


	14. Chapter 14

Marissa didn’t wait for Varric to finish paying Xenon, wanting, no _needing_ to get out of the shop. In the past she had often wondered about Xenon the Antiquarian; now she could safely say that her curiosity was satisfied and she’d die happy to never have to go in there again. She’d rather fight a horde of those giant darkspawn bugs that had attacked Amaranthine all those years ago then return to that place.

She kept walking, trusting instinct and her feet to get her out of the Undercity. The others were close behind her with Sebastian falling in step beside her.

“I would love to believe that we won’t encounter anymore enchanted objects on this journey, but considering the nature of what we’re attempting I don’t think that will be our fate.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened in there?”

“Let’s just say I got a glimpse of what old-age will look like… assuming I’ll live that long to see it,” Marissa said sourly, not noticing the flare of anger on Sebastian’s face.

“I hope this book is more than just a compilation of clan histories and which clan stole which goat. As fascinating as that would be, we need more than that and I don’t like wasting time. And I want to get out of this fucking city. Today would be lovely but I’m not leaving without new armor,” she continued before anyone could respond. Marissa knew she was babbling but couldn’t seem to control it. They had spent too much time in Xenon’s and all the merchants had closed up for the day. Maker’s balls she just wanted to leave Kirkwall and never see it again.

“You should take another look at the Seeker’s book, see if there are more clues in there,” Taran suggested as she caught up to them. The elf’s faced was flushed with red spots highlighting her cheekbones and there was sweat coating her skin. She looked the exact opposite of how Marissa felt. The Seeker however looked pretty much as she felt, if maybe a bit more constipated.  

“Ha. That would require me being able to pry the book away from her for more than five minutes. She hasn’t let it out of her sight since I tossed it back at her.”

“To be fair, sweet thing, you’ve been flat out on your back, one way or the other, for most of that time,” Isabela grinned saucily at her. It wasn’t often that the pirate could make her blush but this was apparently one of those times. Glancing at Sebastian she saw that he hadn’t reacted to Isabela’s remark. In fact he looked as if none of them were present, a deep frown carving across his face.

Reaching out she clasped her hand around his, weaving her fingers through his. His frown relaxed, but only slightly as he lightly squeezed her hand back. A frown of her own sprang up on her face before she could shake it off. Whatever was bothering him was obviously something he didn’t want to talk about in front of an audience.

Climbing out of the Undercity into Lowtown brought fresh energy to Marissa’s step and the sight of The Hanged Man in the distance was most welcome. Perhaps Corff would be serving something other than mystery ingredient stew. It was a thought anyway.

They had almost made it to the door when it slammed open and a crush of bodies fell out into the street. Marissa had to step quickly to avoid the tumble of thrashing arms and legs and watched with some amusement as they yelled creative insults at each other. Corff stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his wide chest. The man looked so disgruntled that Marissa couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her mouth.

“Oh, sure, laugh. You won’t be laughing when you see the state of the main room. These arseholes broke at least half the tables, tables I just bought.”

“You should have listened to me when I suggested hiring that Qunari who glowered at everyone when he came in,” Varric chuckled when Corff just glared at him. “Brawls were down when he was here but I will admit it was a little boring without that entertainment.”

Marissa snorted. “It’s not a true tavern unless there’s at least one brawl a night,” she said, earning a glare of her own from Corff. “Hey, I mean that as a compliment. Who needs a place of their own when they can stay in an inn where there’s free entertainment? It’s loads better than the lumpy bedroll I normally get and all the comforts of home without having one. What else could a girl want?”

“There’s something to be said for having a place of one’s own, sweet thing.”

“Oh, stuff it, Isabela. Having a home is overrated. And you’re one to talk, she of the open seas and home being the next port.”

“And who says that a ship isn’t home?” the pirate tossed back at her, a sad smile briefly flashing in her eyes, before disappearing through the door.

Marissa started to follow them inside but Sebastian pulled her back, waiting until the others had gone in. Marissa raised an eyebrow as he stood there, the frown still in place, his eyes steady on hers.

“What? Do I have dirt on my face or something?”

“No, you look fine. Better than fine actually.”

“Such flattery, Sebastian. How ever will I resist such compliments?” she chuckled, trying to elicit a smile from him and failing. “Come on, let’s go inside and have some of Corff’s mystery meat stew and you can help me sort out our mystery.”

She tugged on his hand again but he remained still, holding back.

“Sebastian?”

“I’ll be along. I have to... there’s something I need to take care of.”

“Nothing but taverns are open now Sebastian, what could you possibly need to take care of?”

“It’s personal,” he said, trying ignore the flash of hurt he saw in her eyes. Maker, he hated that he had put that look there.

“Personal,” she repeated slowly, not sure she liked where this was going.

“I’ll be back soon,” he told her, placing a light kiss on her forehead before stepping away. “Go on and see if there’s something useful in that book.”

He turned and walked away before she could respond. All of her talk of home, or lack thereof, had struck him deeply and he knew himself well enough that he needed to step back so he could process that.

His feet knew the way so well that he really didn’t need to think about where he was going. With a few exceptions he hadn’t been in Uptown much in the last year, or in Kirkwall really, so it was a bit of a shock to see the Chantry Square nearly unchanged since he had last been here. The rubble had been cleared away but there was only an large empty space where the Chantry had once stood. How many sermons had he presided over during his time there? How many times had it crossed his mind that the Chantry and the Grand Cleric had provided him more of a home than his family ever had. With the exception of his grandfather and a few others, he had never felt any warmth from his family.

Sebastian stopped at the edge of the ruins, wary of crossing the border. A shrine had been erected to commemorate the lives lost that day but there were no signs of rebuilding. Did Kirkwall not want its Chantry back?

“A few of the more pious nobles have tried to raise funds to rebuild, but the interest just isn’t there and the Divine is distracted by other matters to push half-made plans into action.”

Sebastian shifted as Cullen came up beside him. In the light of day Sebastian could see just how worn down the man looked. Grey threaded through his hair and there were lines of fatigue that hadn’t been there a year ago. The worn armor was even more apparent now that he could see it clearly.

“What of the Templars? Surely they would want a place to celebrate the Maker.”

Cullen snorted as he kicked a small stone across the ground. It skittered away from them, coming to rest against the shrine. “The Templars. Most of them care for only one thing now and it isn’t the Maker or his Bride.

“If this had happened even five years ago I might be with them. You know that I was originally stationed in the Fereldan Circle? Did you hear what happened there?” Cullen continued before Sebastian could respond, his eyes clouding with memory. “I experienced such horrors there when the blood mages took over the Circle. That experience hardened me and for the longest time I couldn’t look at any mage and not see evil. Knight-Commander Greagoir was right to send me away. I learned to temper my fear here. Meredith helped with that. She was always a hard woman, hard on the mages as well as the Templars. It was only in the later years that she started down the path toward madness.”

“There has been much madness in this city over the years.”

“Aye, there has. And more of it all the time.”

Silence fell upon them as a faint breeze rolled over them. If he listened very carefully Sebastian could swear that he could hear the Chantry bells ringing, summoning the faithful to service.

“You know, the Chantry and the Templars have been a part of my life for almost as long as I can remember. I was taken into the Templars when I was just a boy and don’t really have any clear memories of my family. The Templars became my family and now I’ve lost the only family I’ve known. It would be an understatement to say that I’m lost.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything for a moment, observing the man and his slumped shoulders and dark circles under his eyes. He did indeed have the look of someone who was lost and there was still enough of the Chantry brother in him to want to help Cullen find some kind of peace.

Picking his words carefully, Sebastian asked, “We all crave a place to belong, it’s what keeps us human, gives us purpose. Like you, I found purpose within the Chantry and though it may seem broken I believe it can be healed.”

“You can’t heal what you’re no longer a part of.”

“If you’re no longer a part of the Templar Order, why were you looking for a mage?”

“To apologize.”

His astonishment must have shown for Cullen let out a bitter laugh. “It is the responsibility of the Templars to protect mages from themselves and from others and we’ve failed. We’ve spectacularly failed. My brothers and sisters tore this mage from her clan, slaughtering those who opposed and not caring about the carnage they left behind.”

“The Templars have always taken mages from their homes--.”

“Not like this, Sebastian. Never like this, not from the Dalish. Maker help me, I tried to stop them, to reason with them that taking their Keeper would have disastrous results and have long reaching repercussions but my words fell on deaf ears. After, I took the matter to the Knight-Commander and she threatened to take away my commission and reduce my lyrium ration to the bare minimum if I didn’t let the matter go. And so I did. Maker help me, I let it go.”

Thinking of Taran and the rage she wore when they had met her, Sebastian could more fully understand the reason behind it. Understand and sympathize as he too had his family brutally ripped away from him.

“They slaughtered an entire clan just to capture one mage?” he asked, incredulous that the Templars would go that far.

“They did. All they saw was an unchained mage. They would have met more resistance but the clan had already suffered several casualties to sickness. I have little doubt that the matter would have ended differently if the Dalish had been at full strength,” Cullen sighed, shaking his head. “I’m a fool for even thinking about seeking forgiveness.”

“Seeking forgiveness can be a difficult path to walk but one worth walking.”

“I don’t know that I deserve forgiveness.”

“Sometimes just the asking of it can bring a man solace.”

“The matter is a moot point now as the mage in question is leagues from here by now.”

Uncertainty twisted in Sebastian’s gut. Clearly Cullen was seeking redemption and he wanted to help him, but to give him that chance he would need to reveal Taran’s location and he owed the woman too much to make such a decision lightly. And it wasn’t a decision he could make alone.

“But I intruded on your thoughts. You came here for something other than to listen to my troubles.”

“I… yes, I suppose I did.”

“Something troubles you as well I assume.”

“You would assume correctly. You mentioned how the Templars gave you a home. The Chantry did the same for me, although initially I wasn’t thankful for that.” Sebastian paused. “I think for both of us, having a sense of home, a sense of stability is what has kept us centered but… others have not been so lucky. And, and I wonder if even they could find a home, would they stay.”

“You’re speaking of Marissa.”

“What?”

“You never were really good at hiding your emotions. I may have been exhausted when we last saw each other but I saw the look on your face when you thought she was injured. I always found it interesting that you could bluff your way through a game of Wicked Grace but weren’t able to lie worth a damn.”

“It easier to lie when it’s not personal. If you let cards get personal you shouldn’t play.”

Cullen laughed, the sound harsh. “I suppose you’re right about that. I think for some people home is not so much a place as the people who they’re with. I also think I’m the wrong person to be talking to about this.”

Sebastian sighed. “You’re probably right. I should get back. They’ll be wondering where I am.”

“May I ask, before you go, what is it you’re looking for? I’m doubting that it has anything to do with Starkhaven.”

Again Sebastian hesitated. He wouldn’t be breaking any confidences if he told the former Templar of their plans but part of him thought that too many people knew of their quest as it was. On the other hand, a fresh set of ears might be of some use.

“You know that the Seekers are here in Kirkwall I assume.”

“It’s hard to miss them. I gave Seeker Cassandra my report on what happened, how the Champion tried to save the city but beyond that I’ve had little to do with them. She grilled me for over a day, picking apart every detail.”

“You should consider yourself lucky. She questioned Varric for over a week.”

“A week? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He was one of the Champion’s closest friends. How is this related?”

“The Seekers are desperate for any answers as to how to end the Templar-Mage war; they thought that Hawke would have some sort of influence to end it although I don’t see how he possibly could. The situation has become untenable as you well know.” Sebastian paused, steeling himself for his next words. “They have this book, it’s a record of major events that have happened in Thedas since before the Chantry began. One of the Seekers gave it to Marissa, thinking that she would be able to find something in there that could help.”

“How could she possibly help? If the Seekers have had this book for as long as you say they’ve had scores of scholars studying it.”

“This Seeker has a particular faith in Marissa that she could find an answer. And she did, of a sort.”

“What does that mean?”

“She found a prophecy. It referenced a chained city, a tear in the Veil, and an evil that rivaled that of an archdemon. It also spoke of something hidden, we think it’s in the Hundred Pillars. No, don’t ask me what it is for I have no idea but Marissa and Cassandra seem to think that it’s important and are bent on seeking it out.”

“Well, that’s interesting. If Cassandra is grasping at so-called ancient prophecies she must be truly desperate.”

“You would be right about that. So desperate that she’s willing to cross leagues of untamed wilderness to the Hundred Pillars without her soldiers to seek out something that may not even exist.”

"Maker's breath, why? That's uncharted territory. No one knows what's there and she's willing to go without soldiers? Desperate doesn't even begin to describe it."

"War is coming, has already come and I believe she will do whatever is in her power to avert that. As to her soldiers, well, they would slow us down. We'll get there quicker without them."

"I suppose you’re right. From what I hear it took almost ten days to move the soldiers from Redcliff to Denerim once it became obvious that the darkspawn horde was attacking there instead of Redcliff. It's still completely mad though."

"The whole situation is mad, Cullen." Sebastian hesitated again, mulling it over in his mind before speaking. He really should discuss this with the others before asking Cullen to join them but surely it couldn't hurt to make some kind of offer. The man looked lost and perhaps giving him some kind of purpose would help that. "If you feel up to it, come by The Hanged Man later. Let me speak with the others first. We don't need an army but I'm sure another sword wouldn't be unwelcome."

Cullen's eyebrows shot up, surprise written over his face. Sebastian thought he saw a flicker of light shine in the other man's eyes and it did his soul good to know he had been able to provide hope or something like it to the man.

"I just might do that. If I don't, I wish you well on your quest... and good wishes for you and Marissa. You both deserve some happiness in this world."

Before Sebastian could respond, Cullen turned on his heel and walked off into the night. Perhaps he would see him again or not; either way he hoped that the former Templar was able to find the peace he so desperately needed.

He turned back to the remains of what was once the Chantry. Stepping up to the shrine he knelt before it, words of prayer forming in his mind but none said aloud. He tried to bring to mind the sense of peace and belonging he had once felt here, but that had disappeared the day Anders had betrayed them all and committed mass murder. The only thing he could do now was pray for all those lost souls and hope that they could find some peace.

xxx

The candles on the desk had burned down nearly to the end before Marissa was willing to admit defeat. She had been studying both the Seeker book and the Avvar history book for what felt like hours and she could feel the back of her eyeballs turning grainy. She hadn't made much progress; at least it didn't feel like it. Beyond a few references to clan shamans she hadn't found any references regarding ancient prophecies or anything pertaining to The Hundred Pillars or what might be hiding within. If she had been smart about it she would have looked for a book on the region but she doubted such a thing existed. Even the well-traveled Brother Genitivi hadn't ventured into its deep gorges and caverns. The Dalish might know something but the chances of finding a clan that would talk to them instead of attacking them on sight were slim.

Part of the problem was that she had trouble focusing. Sebastian had left with hardly a word. He had been distracted when he left but made no mention of what was bothering him or where he was going.

Part of her had wanted to go after him despite what he had said but she knew the look of one who needed to be alone well enough to restrain herself. He would tell her what was going on eventually. At least she hoped so; she really didn't want to beat it out of him.

Reaching up, she rubbed at her shoulder. There was a dull ache there still with a twin one at her side. She shouldn't be surprised by it, even with Taran's healing magic a body took a while to recover from such wounds. The weakness irritated her but there was no use in bitching about it. As long as she didn't overdo it she would be back to stabbing things and running over rooftops in no time.

Except where they were going there weren't going to be any rooftops. She had only heard second and third-hand accounts of The Hundred Pillars and she prayed that they were able to find more information soon. With her elbows braced on the desk Marissa scrubbed her face, hoping to erase the exhaustion that was falling over her.

Marissa hadn’t realized her eyes were closed and her head sliding off her palm until she heard the soft click of the door shutting. Sitting up, she looked bleary-eyed across the room to see Sebastian leaning back against the door, just looking at her with a bemused expression on his face.

“What?” she asked irritability, annoyed and embarrassed to have been caught essentially sleeping on the job as she saw it.

“Tis nothing. You do have a smear of ink on your face though.”

Swearing, Marissa lifted up a corner of her shirt, wiping at her cheek. Looking back at Sebastian she saw the smile still on his face as he shook his head and came up to her. Kneeling down he took the fabric from her hand and gently wiped the other side of her face. Marissa scowled at him, snatching her shirt back from him.

“Now don’t scowl. You actually look quite adorable.”

“I don’t do adorable, Sebastian.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. But what are you still doing up? You should be resting.”

“Don’t mother hen me, Sebastian, I know my limits.”

“And you’ve just about reached them, I’d say.” He glanced over the desk, seeing that she had both books open with several sheets of parchment scattered across the desk, neat handwriting filling each page. Just how long had she been at this?

“I needed to go through the books, see if I could find something useful that can help us.”

“And did you?”

Marissa slumped back in her chair, a defeated sigh escaping her lips. “No, not yet. But there has to be answers in here somewhere. There just has to be.”

“Well, you’re not going to find anything tonight. Don’t argue with me, _mo ghrá_ , you were nearly asleep when I came in.”

She couldn’t argue with him; her eyes felt as if they were rolling around in sawdust. Standing up, she blew out the candle and tumbled face-first into the bed, not bothering to undress. She could hear Sebastian moving around the room, removing his armor. In her mind’s eye she could see him neatly setting it aside, lining up each piece precisely next to each other. Even as she smirked into her pillow at his fastidiousness it reminded her that she would need to go buy new armor in the morning. A quick visit to the Lowtown market to gather supplies and then they needed to get out of Kirkwall.

“We need to leave Kirkwall tomorrow, Sebastian. We’ll need to get supplies of course, but we need to leave.”

“Shut down that brain of yours and go to sleep. We’ll worry about tomorrow when it comes.”

“I suppose we’ll need to get some blighted horses.”

“Marissa, I mean it, go to sleep.”

“And I need to go to an armorer. Can’t go off on a quest without armor.”

“Marissa.”

“I should have gone today. That way we could leave right away in the morning after we stock up on supplies. Lyrium and health potions for sure, but we’ll also need to travel light.” Her words were starting to slur together as sleep tightened its hold on her. She faintly heard Sebastian’s frustrated sigh as she kept mumbling on about what they needed to do before they left Kirkwall. Marissa wasn't even sure what she was saying anymore even as her words trailed off and she finally fell into sleep.

When he was sure that she was finally asleep Sebastian reached over and stroked a hand through her hair and down her back, letting it rest on the small of her back. It was surely madness, his feelings for her. They had come up so strong and fast that he was having a little trouble getting a hold of them. All he knew was that he loved her and wanted to keep her safe; a task that he could only hope that he was up to with their upcoming journey. They had no idea what they were going to find, or what they were up against beyond the fact that it was bigger than anything any of them had ever faced before.

Pushing it from his mind, he pulled Marissa to him, her body pliant with sleep and molding against his. He breathed in her scent as he let sleep take him over and pushed away all thoughts of tomorrow and just focused on the woman he held in his arms.

XXX

In the next room Taran slept fitfully, her sleep plagued by images she was having trouble interpreting. She was standing in the large open courtyard of the Gallows. The stone walls around her were still bore the scorch marks from the battle between the Champion and his companions against Meredith, the largest mark where the Knight-Commander had burned from the inside out, the red lyrium finally consuming her. Taran hadn’t been there for the battle, having been locked away in the dungeons of the Gallows, but she had heard the clash of swords and the tingling of magic from her cell.

But why was she here now? What was the purpose in showing her this? Standing there she watched as the scene before her reversed itself, bodies reappearing on the ground, blood smearing the stone underneath them. Smoke filled the air, but rather than rising in the air, it sank into the ground, returning to the fire.

Turning, Taran came face-to-face with the Knight-Commander, her skin blackened with fine red lines cracking the surface. Stumbling back, Taran’s feet tangled underneath her causing her to fall down, pain jolting up her spine. The charred skin started to glow as the red light bloomed brighter until it covered the Knight-Commander’s body. Taran lifted a hand to shield the light from her eyes as the Knight-Commander’s eyes opened, revealing red orbs that pulsed with the power of the red lyrium that had taken over the woman’s body.

Taran tried to scramble back as the Knight-Commander rose to her feet, her long sword suddenly in her hand, the tip pointing at Taran’s throat.

“The mage was right. There can be no compromise. I will bring the Maker’s justice to all. None shall escape his wrath.”

Meredith raised her sword, pointing it to the sky. Taran watched as power built up in the sword until a shockwave of magic exploded out from it in all directions with a spear of red light piercing the sky above. Rather than continuing into the sky, the light struck against something and Taran watched, horrified as the sky began to bend and ripple until it began to crack. No, it wasn't the sky cracking, it was the Veil.

And suddenly she understood what was happening. Tears in the Veil had been happening for years; weak spots could be found just about anywhere. What they were facing was something different though. Something was going to punch a hole through it, rending it to pieces, and she knew deep within her soul that there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Watching the sky boil and a sickly green light break through, seeing the dark forms slithering through the cracks, Taran knew they were well and truly fucked.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Marissa woke before Sebastian. She briefly thought of waking him but her eye caught the books lying on the table and any thought of staying in bed with him fled. There had to be something in there that would help them, there just had to be. She refused to believe that they had wasted an afternoon in Xenon's shop for nothing.

Sliding out of bed, she quickly dressed and gathered up the books and the sheets of parchment she had made notes on and left the room as quietly as possible. Part of her felt guilty for leaving Sebastian without waking him but as much as she would have loved to curl up against him and sleep the morning away, she could feel that time was running short and that they needed to leave Kirkwall as soon as possible.

Marissa stole down the stairs to the main room, finding it empty except for Norah sweeping up the remnants of last night's revelry and Taran sitting at one of the back tables, her head cradled in her arms on the table. A mug of what looked to be tea sat at her elbow, long since cooled.

The elf didn't raise her head as Marissa approached or even as she sat across from her. It wasn't until Marissa placed the books on the table that the elf acknowledged her presence and even then it was little more than a muffled grunt that Marissa could only assume was some kind of greeting.

"Rough night?"

Taran merely shifted in her seat and grunted at Marissa again. Her blonde curls poured over her arms, her ears poking through. Was it her imagination or did what little of Taran's face she could see look pale?

"Taran?"

The elf finally raised her head and Marissa inhaled sharply. Taran's face was indeed pale and there were deep grey circles ringing her eyes. Her lime-green eyes had a vacant look that was unnatural.

"Maker's breath you look like shit."

"This? This is nothing compared to how my head feels."

"What happened?"

Taran picked up her mug, sipping slowly from it before setting it carefully back down. Marissa couldn't help but notice how she tried to hide the slight tremor in her hands. The elf cleared her throat and sat back in her chair.

"Here you see the after effects of one of my special dreams. Not very pleasant, is it?"

"It would seem not," Marissa said carefully. "What happened?"

"What do you know about red lyrium?"

"Not much. Next to nothing really beyond the fact that it drives people around it mad. Why?"

"I got an up close viewing of what happened to the Knight-Commander when it overtook her, or at least an interpretation of it. After last night I'm fairly certain that red lyrium will have something to do with the tearing of the Veil." Taran went on to describe the rest of her dream and by the end Marissa was fairly certain that she was going to be sick. How could they fight against something so powerful? They were just a handful of people with dubious talents. She herself had spent a good portion of her adolescence sneaking into nobles' houses and relieving them of their valuables or compromising documents they would rather be kept hidden. Of what use was a thief in a situation like this?

"Well then."

"Yeah. We're pretty much fucked."

Marissa drummed her fingers on the table, staring into the mid-distance. She wasn't sure how to incorporate this new information. The only thing that she could think of was that time was running short and that feeling was increasing with every moment.

"So. What are we going to do about it."

"Honestly? I don't know. I mean, this is such a huge thing, an end of the world type thing. How does one deal with that?"

"Well, there's the Warden’s route where she sacrificed her life to save Ferelden and Thedas from The Blight, but she knew what she was fighting against. We don't.”

“Is it really all that different from a Blight though? You shem put a lot of stock into your Maker and how mages are the beginning and end of all evil, maybe we should be looking deeper into that.”

“That’s a thought, but short of storming the White Tower and barging into their archives I don’t see how the Chantry can help us.”

“Again with your reliance on words written in books. Books are written by people and their biases are imbedded into their words. People are fallible, and worse, history is usually written by the victors. They believe what they want to believe and tend to force those beliefs onto others despite evidence to the contrary. Didn’t you say yesterday that Chantry brother, Genitivi was it, tended to embellish his stories?”

Marissa scrunched her nose, remembering her words. Brother Genitivi was wildly popular with his tales of other countries and cultures but Marissa had often wondered and questioned the veracity of his claims. Some seemed just too wild to believe.

“Perhaps you’re right Taran. Books can be wrong--they’re written by people after all--but I have to believe that there is some truth to be found in them. We just have to know where to look.”

“Well, that’s the trick, isn’t it? I will give you that putting your history in books, even if it’s twisted, preserves a version of it. So much of my people’s history has been lost. We claim to be keepers of the lost lore but it’s hard to keep it if we can’t find it.”

“Taran, the elvhan people have lost much due to war and persecution. It’s hard to preserve the past when you’re fighting to preserve your present.”

Taran didn’t say anything for a moment, instead choosing to scowl at the table as if it had personally offended her. Marissa wondered for a moment if she had overstepped. The Dalish could be prickly in regards to outsiders poking into their business and she couldn’t really blame them. The elvhan people overall had lost much at the hands of humans and they continued to suffer; city elves to poverty and racism and the Dalish with no true home to call their own.

“Perhaps that’s true, but there’s no sense in debating it right now. We have more important things to worry about.”

“Yes, like figuring out what we’re supposed to be looking for once we get to The Hundred Pillars. That prophecy, or whatever it was, was incredibly not helpful.”

“But then most prophecies are. I think those who make them take special pleasure in making them vague so that the people who are trying to interpret them go slowly mad.”

“It doesn’t help that we only have a portion of it.” Marissa traced a finger over the embossed cover of the Seeker book, scowling down at it for being so difficult. There was a deep gouge in the cover, almost as if someone had stabbed it.

“No, that it doesn’t. We’re not going to find any answers here. We need to leave.”

“You’re not going to get any objections from me about that. If not for my good friend Tobias we would have left yesterday. Bastard. I hope you cooked him good.”

Taran smirked, her eyes lighting with humor for the first time that morning. “Well, there wasn’t much left if that makes you feel any better.”

“Strangely, yes.”

“If you do not wish the Templars in this city to hunt you down, it would be wise not to flaunt your magic, mage.” Cassandra’s voice sounded out behind her, the woman’s heavy boots clomping across the wooden floor.

“Hey, here’s a thought, Seeker. Maybe if the Templars didn’t have a stick up their ass about magic, us mages wouldn’t have to hide.”

Marissa scrubbed her hands over her face, trying, and failing, to suppress a heavy sigh. “Listen you two, it’s a long way to the Hundred Pillars and it would be best if we’re not at each others throats the whole way.”

“That is rich coming from you. It wasn’t that long ago, just the other day in fact, that you were keen on starting a second war between Orlais and Fereldan.” Cassandra’s voice grated over her skin and it was all Marissa could do to remain seated and not stab the woman. It was tempting, so very tempting, but she needed to heed her own advice and make peace with the woman.

Swallowing her pride, Marissa stood and stared at the Orlesian. She wasn’t entirely sure of the Seeker’s motivations beyond the fact that she wanted to put an end to the war between mages and templars.

“If you want to stop whatever’s coming I think it’d be best if we weren’t at each other’s throats all the time. I’m not asking you to like me or any of the rest of us but I am asking you to put it aside so we can get this thing done.”

“You are a thief and an assassin. How can you possibly expect me to trust you?”

Marissa bristled at that. She knew she was a thief, it was how she had survived all these years; the assassin part was only partially true. She only killed when she needed to and it wasn’t like she had been paid for those kills. Nathaniel had taught her how to be a ghost in the shadows, a knife in the dark, but he hadn’t pushed her towards murder. Her mentor had tried to teach her that there were better ways than death to punish someone, and those lessons had stuck with her for the most part. There were those, however, that were just too dangerous to let them live.

“If you wanted people who follow your version of law and order you’ve come to the wrong band of merry misfits. If you can’t handle that you know where the door is.”

Cassandra pursed her lips tightly, obviously struggling over what she considered right and wrong and what needed to be done. Marissa would have laughed if the situation weren’t so serious.

“Fine. But if I get the sense that you are more of a danger to this quest than help I will not hold back.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” A movement on the stairs caught her eye and she saw Sebastian making his way down the stairs. She needed to end this conversation, and quickly. As open-minded as he was about her past, he didn’t know all of it and she wanted it to stay that way. She couldn’t bear to see the light fade from his eyes when he learned of some of her more unsavory activities.

“Look, I need to go to an armorer. If you’re so keen on answers, why don’t you look over those books. Maker knows that I spent hours pouring over them with little result. Maybe you’ll find something I didn’t.”

“Leliana gave you that book for a reason and now you’re telling me that you can’t find anything?”

“Well, I’m sure she didn’t count on me being skewered and out of commision for a day.” She felt Sebastian step up behind her and place a hand on her shoulder, lightly squeezing it, and had to force herself not to lean into him. Beyond the fact that she didn’t want to show what could be perceived as weakness in front of the Seeker, that wild, independent streak in her was leery of relying too much on his presence. She knew what they had wouldn’t last for long, they were from two different worlds, and those worlds didn’t mesh well.

Still, she couldn’t help but look up at him and give him a small smile. Despite the feelings he stirred in her, Sebastian had a calming presence, one that helped her to deal with the frustrating woman in front of her.

“I shouldn’t be gone long, an hour tops. Do what you want while we’re gone, just be ready to leave when we get back.”

Without waiting for their response, Marissa turned and walked out of the building. Sebastian fell in step beside her. She started to walk toward the stalls in the Lowtown market but he steered her in a different direction, toward the better part of Lowtown, if one could call it that.

“Where are you going? The market is that way.”

“You’ll see.”

“Sebastian,” she huffed, “We don’t have time for this. I need to get some armor, something that doesn’t suck and that’s going to take a little time.”

“Trust me. I know a guy.”

Marissa paused at that. It sounded more like something Varric would say rather than Sebastian.

“You know a guy,” she said slowly.

“Yes. Here, it’s this way.”

With no choice but to follow him, Marissa walked beside him silently if not a bit annoyed. He was being high-handed, something she really didn’t appreciate. This was the behavior she expected from nobility and it frustrated her that he was exhibiting it.

They rounded a corner, and without knocking, Sebastian stepped into a non-descript building, pulling her with him. Oh yes, they were going to have a talk about this later.

A brown haired man stood behind the counter. Something about him tickled the back of her mind but Marissa couldn’t quite place him. At their entrance, the man turned toward him, a slightly sour look on his face. A look that fled when he saw who had entered.

“Oh, Prince Vael, you’re back! Wade has been working on your order almost constantly since you left. In my opinion he should be done, Wade, however, will probably disagree. Wade? Wade! I need you up here.”

“Oh, Herren, why must you hassle me so? Can’t you see that I’m busy creating art? All these interruptions, it vexes me so.”

A bald man with a huge, dark mustache emerged from the back of the room, soot and sweat covering his brow. Marissa had to stifle a gasp. She knew who these two were now. Master Wade was one of the best armorers in all of Denerim. People from all over had clamored for his work, though few could afford it.

“Sebastian, I can’t afford this.”

“Hush now, it’s been dealt with.”

“It’s been _dealt_ with? What is that supposed to mean?” she hissed.

“It means that it’s been dealt with.” She started to protest again, when he nudged her forward. “This is the woman I had you make the armor for, is it ready?”

Master Wade brought his hand up to his chin, rubbing it idly as he looked her up and down. Marissa tried not to fidget as he measured her up. She hated being the center of attention.

“I won’t know until she puts it on, but it _might_ do. I dislike having to rush my work, and then there was the other matter you wanted me to look into. But first, the armor. Come with me.”

Without waiting for her response, Master Wade grabbed her hand and pulled her behind the counter and to the back of the shop. A forge glowed with red light, painting the walls in a warm glow. The room was meticulously laid out and Marissa didn’t doubt that Master Wade could find whatever tool he needed blindfolded.

Master Wade led her over to an armor stand and it was all she could do to not gape. It was her armor but it was so much more than that. Instead of hardened crimson leather and steel plating, the chestpiece looked like it was made out of drakeskin and silverite. Reaching her hand out, she ran a finger down the front. Yes, it was definitely drakeskin. Turning back to Master Wade and Sebastian, she couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Oh, she doesn’t like it! And she’s right. It’s awful, just awful,” Master Wade moaned, rubbing his hands over his head. Marissa idly wondered if that was the reason for why he was bald.

“No, no Master Wade. The armor is wonderful. It’s just that I’ve never seen something like this before,” she assured the distraught man.

“Really? I worked so hard on it. And it was a challenge let me tell you, to create something such as this from that shoddy dwarven armor you were wearing before. Here, look. I inlaid several slots for all those knives you carry. I found quite a few while inspecting that… thing. And you’ll be able to bend and twist as if you weren’t wearing any armor at all. Here, you must try it on. I simply _must_ see you in it!”

Marissa wanted to protest but the armor was just too amazing to resist. Besides, Master Wade was already tugging off her jacket, not giving her an opportunity to say no. It wasn’t natural for a person to be this rhapsodic over armor, was it?

The chestpiece was incredibly light and conformed to her body as if it was a second skin. Twisting and bending, Marissa found that she indeed had full range of movement. It was almost like it wasn’t there.

“Now the boots. As with the chestpiece I made them durable but flexible as well. I’m told that you do a lot of running, so I made sure that the soles have a decent grip.”

“How did you manage to do this in such a short time?” Marissa marvelled. The armor felt and looked like it had taken weeks rather than days to make.

“I slaved, slaved I tell you, to create this piece, and seeing it on you makes all of it worth it. It’s such a shame that you have to pay for it.”

“Now, Wade, we talked about this. We don’t give armor away for free, no matter how much of a piece of art you think it is,” Herren scolded. Master Wade waved aside his protests, appearing unconcerned with trivial things like payment.

Marissa looked over at Sebastian, a small smile curving her lips. He and Varric had done this for her and he didn’t seem to think anything of it.

“I don’t have the coin for this,” she started.

“It’s already taken care of. No, don’t argue with me _mo grhá_ , it is already done.”

“But--.”

“No buts, just say thank you Marissa.”

“Thank you Marissa.”

She forced the smartassed remark out, certain that if she didn’t she would burst into tears, instead giving him a sassy grin to hide behind. A grin that lasted only until Master Wade brought something from his workbench.

Marissa felt all the blood drain from her face. It couldn’t be. She had left that somewhere in the Vimmark Mountains under a pile of dead darkspawn.

“This, _this_ , is a true masterpiece though. I wasn't sure that I could fix this but it was almost as if the heartwood _wanted_ to be repaired. It is _such_ a joy to work with such fantastical materials. Herren doesn't let me indulge much at all. He’s such a spoilsport,” he whined, but his words went right over Marissa’s head as she reached out carefully for the bow, for _her_ bow. And it was her bow. The scrollwork she had etched into it on cold Ferelden nights was still there, you couldn’t even see where the bow had cracked. It was almost as if it had never been broken.

Turning her eyes to Sebastian she tried to say something, anything, but words failed her. She just looked at him, his bright blue eyes staring back at her with a look of such adoration that she couldn’t cope anymore. Without a word she ran out of the shop, leaving all three men with varying looks of puzzlement on their faces.

She didn’t go far. Just a couple of shops down before she ducked into an alley, desperately trying to rein in on the waves of emotion washing over her. She braced herself against the wall as pain seared in her gut, pain that had nothing to do with the injury that had almost killed her. The bow had been a gift from her mentor, the man who had seen potential in her and hadn’t been put off by her surly nature. Nathaniel Howe had smoothed out some of the rough edges she had gained during the Blight and had given her a sense of purpose. Together they had grifted and stolen from both Amaranthine and Denerim nobles who used their power to subvert the law and cause needless pain to those they deemed beneath them.

It wasn't until after he died that she became a killer.

She hadn’t been able to prove it, but she was absolutely certain that Warden-Commander from Orlais had something to do with his death. Even as she had slid her knife into his heart he wouldn't admit what he had done. Not aloud anyway. It was the sneering smile on his face that, at least to her, proved he had killed Nathaniel. Thinking back to that moment, Marissa had to swallow the gorge of bile that rose in her throat.

Nathaniel had tried so hard to protect her from the world and in the end he had failed.

“Marissa?”

Marissa straightened up from the wall and tried to get herself under control. What in Andraste’s name was wrong with her? She didn’t lose control like this but what Sebastian had done for her was so big and he had done it when he had barely known her.

“Marissa?” he said again, this time placing his hand lightly on her shoulder. Marissa spun around, grabbing a fistful of his hair and brought his mouth down to hers. He stumbled into her, nearly slamming them into the wall. She sunk everything she felt into the kiss, hoping that in some way it would purge her of the emotions she was feeling. Drowning herself in lust was preferable to baring old wounds.

Boosting herself up, she wrapped her legs around his legs, trusting that he would not let her fall and she was not disappointed. She bit down lightly on his lower lip, eliciting a soft growl from him as he pulled her closer, one hand supporting her weight while the other worked on the buckles of her armor. His nimble fingers made quick work of the buckles and soon he was sliding his hand under her underarmor and shirt, cupping her breast. Marissa groaned and arched into his touch. She had felt so cold when she had entered to alleyway but his touch warmed her, both inside and out.

It was only then that she realized that she was crying.

Marissa pulled back, letting her legs slide off him and buried herself into his chest, ignoring the sharp angles and cold metal of his armor. She felt Sebastian hesitating for only a moment before wrapping his arms around her, his cheek resting against the top of her head. Finding release in sex was one thing, but finding a release in this kind of intimacy was something different and it was something she had never dreamed she would ever have.

She didn’t know how long they stood there like that but eventually she felt him pull back. He cupped his hands around her face, tilting it up to his, his thumbs lightly wiping away the tears that pooled underneath her eyes.

“Why are you crying, _mo ghrá_?”

Marissa wanted to hide her face in his chest again but forced herself to meet his gaze. It was time that she stopped being embarrassed by her emotions.

“What you did? No one has ever done anything like that for me. Why did you save my bow?”

Rather than look uncomfortable about her question as she expected him to, Sebastian merely smiled, his eyes soft yet steady on hers.

“I saw the look on your face when you thought it was broken beyond repair. It was the same look I had on my own face when my family was murdered and everything I had known was stolen from me. My grandfather was the one who taught me how to shoot. I was eleven or so at the time. He had this longbow that had been in our family for years and he told me that the day that I could pull the bowstring was the day I became a man. I never got the chance to show him that,” he paused. “It seems silly to mourn the loss of a thing, but Hawke found it and when he gave it back to me, it was like having a piece of my family back again… I found myself wanting to give you that same feeling.”

Sebastian push a lock of hair away from her face, letting his fingers trail down the sensitive shell of her ear. Marissa tried to suppress a shudder and failed miserably.

“But you hardly knew me,” she started.

“True,” he interrupted. “But it was enough for me to want to see a smile on your face, to see you happy.”

“But you hardly knew me,” she repeated softly, still having trouble coming to grasps with the fact that a near total stranger would do something like this. In her experience, people didn’t do things for others out of the goodness of their hearts.

“There is good in this world still, Marissa, you know, I wish you would believe it.”

“Sebastian-.”

“I love you.”

Of all the things that he could have said at that moment, that was the last thing she would have ever expected him to say. It should have terrified her, especially considering how she reacted to the bow, but it was exactly the right thing to say. And yet...

“You cannot be serious.”

Sebastian blinked, obviously not expecting such a flat out denial from her.

“I’m completely serious, Marissa.”

“I know,” she answered, leaning up to kiss him lightly on the lips before stepping back, quickly refastening the buckles on her armor. Hoping to prevent any further discussion on the matter. At least for the moment. She was still trying to process the gift he had given her, she couldn’t deal with this too. Not right now. “Come on, we need to get back so we can get the hell out of Kirkwall.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the alleyway. They made it maybe five feet before something rumbled from Hightown. It wasn’t an explosion exactly but it was loud enough that the sound was blocked out all other noises. Angry shouts and metal clanging rang throughout the streets. It was music that Marissa was all too familiar with but she had hoped to avoid it for a while. At least until they left Kirkwall anyway.

As with many things though, Kirkwall was disinclined to cooperate.

“Shit. And me without my daggers. I know better. Dammit,” Marissa grumbled. She turned back to Sebastian. The bewildered look was gone from his face, replaced by one of grim determination. Between the two of them they only had her bow and a quiver of arrows. Not nearly enough to fight off whatever was coming.

“We’re going to have to run. We can’t take on whatever’s coming and it sounds big.” She buckled the strap for the quiver around her before slinging her bow over her shoulder, silently cursing that she wouldn’t be able to test it. Yet.

“Agreed. Are you up for this?”

“Does a nug shit in the Deep Roads?” she grinned. “Just try to keep up. We’re going to take a short cut.”

Marissa led Sebastian down alleyways, back alleys, and side streets that he hadn’t known existed. Lowtown had always been a mess, easy to get lost in, but this was a completely different experience for him. How Marissa was able to keep it all straight and not get lost was beyond him. He supposed he should be grateful that she didn’t take to the rooftops.

“Come on,” she called over her shoulder as they squeezed through on particularly narrow passage, “We’re almost there.”

The passage opened up into a familiar throughway, the Hanged Man just twenty feet away with its giant sign tilting to one side and swaying back and forth. They smashed through the door at the same time, startling the small group of patrons that had started to lurk around the tables. Marissa took the stairs two at a time, racing to the top. She and Sebastian near fell into Varric’s quarters as they entered the door at the same time.

“Good, you’re all here. It’s time to go. Now.”

“ _Now_ , you want to leave? Care to expand on that, sweetheart?” Isabela drawled, stretching in her chair even as a sharp glint entered her eyes. “What’s the sudden rush?”

“Not exactly sure but it’s nothing good and I don’t think we want to be around to find out. Everyone, grab your gear. We’re leaving.”

Marissa didn’t wait for the others to respond, trusting them to do as asked. Bursting into the room she and Sebastian shared she was pleasantly surprised to find all her stuff already packed and her daggers ready for her, ensconced in their sheaths, ready to be used.  

Sebastian silently gathered up his things as Marissa strapped on her weapons belt but she could feel his eyes on her, gauging her and trying to puzzle out her reaction to his declaration. She knew she owed him a better answer than ‘I know’ but it had been the best thing she could come up at the moment and now was not the time to hash it out.

Isabela and Fenris were already waiting in the tavern’s main room as they descended the stairs, with Varric, Cassandra, and Taran following close behind. As they gathered in a loose circle all of them gazed at Marissa expectantly.

“Do we know what’s coming? How large of a force?” Cassandra demanded, the Seeker’s frame tense and ready for battle.

“I didn’t get a look at them but there was definitely fighting in the streets and by the sound of it, it was a lot of fighters. Whoever it is sounded like they were in a hurry and we’re out of time.”

The door to The Hanged Man burst open, a tall figure in dented armor rushing in, his sword drawn. To her left Marissa saw Taran’s magic flicker, her staff humming with energy. The mage’s dark face was drawn tight with fury.

“You idiot, they’re Templars. And you brought them straight to us.”

“I’m not with the Templars anymore, Taran. I came to warn you. All of you.” Cullen’s face was streaked with sweat and flecks of blood. More blood coated his blade.

“Bullshit. Once a Templar, always a Templar,” Taran spat back at him.

Cullen focused his full attention on the mage. “They would have found you eventually whether or not I was still with them. You don’t just display magic freely out in the open and expect no one to notice. Not in this city. It was only a matter of time before they discovered your presence.”

“I take it you know each other then. Wonderful, no need to waste time with introductions. How far away are they?” Marissa asked Cullen, hoping that Taran would save her mana for the real battle to come. She had a feeling they would need it.

“Not far and getting closer. It’s a full squad of Templars. They ran into some of Lowtown’s finest who took exception to their presence. They slowed them down some but they will make it here sooner than we want.”

“A full squad, you say? Well, it’s been a few days since we had a good fight. Guess we were due,” Isabela drawled, a slow smile curving her lips.

“This is nothing to laugh at, pirate. Templars are highly trained and highly motivated but they will listen to me.”

“I beg your pardon Seeker, but they will not. The Templars, most of them anyway, do not recognize the power of the Seeker Order anymore,” Cullen told her, his eyes darting back to the door. “The only way we’re getting out of this is to fight.”

“There’s no we here, Templar.”

“Peace, Taran. If it’s a full squad of them, we’re going to need every sword we can get. You can kill him later if you still want too. Varric, got any ideas on how to get out of here?” Marissa asked, hoping he had a plan to escape and then three to back it up.

“Oh, a few. And none of them good. Damn Templars. One would have thought they’d be more reasonable after they saw how insane Meredith was.”

“Insanity has a tendency to spread if given half a chance. Now, what say--.”

The rest of Marissa’s words were swallowed up as the tavern’s door opened again, the frame filled by a giant shadow. Marissa couldn’t help but gape at the giant figure. The man had to be as tall as a Qunari at least. He stepped into the room with several other Templars filing in beside him. The giant Templar stood there for a moment, surveying the group in front of him.

“Get the mage. Kill the rest if they get in the way,” came the order, the Templar’s voice muffled by his helmet.

“You will, all of you, stand down. This mage is under my protection.”

Of all the people who could have stepped forward at that point, Cassandra Pentaghast was the last one that Marissa would have expected. The Seeker’s voice cut through the air, stopping the advancing Templars with her sharp words.

“The Seeker Order has no power over Templar matters. Not anymore.”

“How _dare_ you. I am the Right Hand of the Divine. I speak with her voice and I say that you will stand down,” Cassandra ordered, her hand gripped tightly on the pommel of her sword.

“Uh, Seeker, these don’t exactly look like the conversational type. More of the I-will-stab-you-and-step-over-your-corpse types,” Varric drawled as he locked a bolt into position on Bianca.

“Can’t we do both at the same time? And then take their stuff after they’re dead?”

“I don’t think we’ll having time for looting Isabela, not with this lot.”

“Shame. I do so like looting.”

“Enough! We’re taking the mage.”

“Fuck you. You assholes aren’t taking me anywhere.” Taran let loose a bolt of fire, singeing two of the Templars. It was all that was needed to turn the tavern floor into a full melee. Marissa barely had time to draw her daggers before the Templars rushed them enmass. More poured through the door, quickly surrounding them.

The main room of the Hanged Man didn’t provide a lot of space for fighting, a problem that was partially solved with the destruction of a couple of Corff’s tables. Corff and Norah cowered behind the bar along with the few early bird patrons. Over the din of the battle, Marissa could hear Corff cursing them all.

The Templars attacked them with single-minded ferocity, completely focused on their goal and not giving a damn who got in their way. One bashed her with his shield before she could duck out of the way, sending her flying back and slamming into one of the columns. Marissa wiped away the blood from her lips and came up smiling. What better way to work off emotions she didn’t quite understand than an all out brawl. Though brawl was probably not the best word to describe it. Full-out melee was probably a better description.

Running forward, Marissa jumped onto a table and used it to launch herself behind the Templars. Lightning fast she struck out at the nearest ones, backstabbing one, and then sinking a dagger into the meaty thigh of another. Their heavy chainmail deflected some of her strikes but she knew where the weaknesses were, enabling her to at least slow them down.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Fenris glowing brightly, taking on two Templars at once. Occupied by the two in front of him, he didn’t see the third creeping up behind him, blade at the ready. Marissa swept her leg against the back of her adversary’s legs and didn’t bother to watch him fall as she rushed forward, taking the third Templar down by jumping onto his back and sinking her daggers into the unprotected space between his chestpiece and helmet. Fenris finished off his opponent before giving her a curt nod.

She could hear Isabela cackling and shouting insults at the Templars. The woman was remarkably creative in her insults. Marissa was pretty sure some of the things she suggested weren’t physically possible. Turning her head, Marissa saw one of the Templars rush at her but his attack was cut short when Cullen used his shield to knock him back, following it with a quick jab of his sword into the man’s neck.

Taran was standing back in the corner, Varric at her side as she shot out bolts of lightning from her staff. She was gathering her mana for another blast when the head Templar let out a smite that had her staggering backward, the only thing holding her up was the wall behind her. The smite was so powerful that it set all in the room off balance, all struggling to stay on their feet. Taran’s face turned grey as her mana was taken from her, rendering her magic useless. Marissa felt her skin tingling as the effects of the smite rolled over her and knew that it had to be a million times worse for the mage. Varric remained at Taran’s side, using the bayonet on his crossbow to keep the Templar from advancing further.

Marissa rose up from her crouch but was stopped from going any further when a boot stomped on her foot. Falling face forward, it was all she could do to roll to the side before the Templars sword could sink into her skull. She scrambled backward as the Templar raised his sword again but a trio of arrows pierced his armor before he could do more. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Sebastian standing on the one remaining intact table, firing arrows when he was able. The confined space of the tavern was not ideal for archers.

There seemed to be no end to the Templars. They were like a darkspawn horde that had no end as they kept pouring through the door. Glancing around her Marissa could see all her companions fighting. Cassandra’s face was a mask of tightly controlled rage. The Seeker had worked her way across the room and was taking on the lead Templar. Cullen had joined her side and the two were fighting back to back, keeping them away from Taran who still looked as if she was going to vomit.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Marissa.

Cullen shouldered one of the Templars back roughly, the man falling into the hearth. There wasn’t much of a fire lit in the hearth but it was enough for the Templar’s robes to catch fire and send the man into a panic. As he tried to put out the flames the man only succeeded in spreading them further. The broken planks from the tables proved to be good kindling, allowing the fire to spread quickly. It licked up the banners and wall hangings, eagerly consuming them.

“Varric, everyone, I think it’s time we get out of here,” Marissa shouted over the din. The fire had proved to be an excellent distraction and should allow them to leave without too much interference from the Templars.

“These bastards set my favorite tavern on fire,” Isabela said as she helped Marissa to her feet before smashing her fist into the face of an oncoming Templar. “I hope that Varric didn’t have anything up there he considers irreplaceable.”

“I hope that it doesn’t spread to the slums. The whole of Lowtown will be gutted if this spreads.”

“If Lowtown can survive a Qunari uprising and a Templar revolt, it should be able to survive this. I hope.” Isabela glanced at her. “Though you may get your wish about Kirkwall being burnt to the ground after all. Third time’s a charm, right?”

“I don’t plan on sticking around to find out. We need to make for the city gates.”

“Just once I’d like to flee this city on a ship,” Isabela sighed.

“Well, Rivaini, I don’t think this is going to be one of these times,” Varric said as he approached, both Cullen and Cassandra close behind. Cullen had one of Taran’s arms slung over his shoulder, holding it in place with his hand, his other arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Taran's eyes had started to focus but she was far from able to fight back.

Smoke was rapidly filling the room as a beam fell from the ceiling, separating them from the Templars.

“That’s our cue, boys and girls. Let’s get out of here. I don’t fancy putting roasted dwarf on Corff’s menu.”

As a group they fled The Hanged Man, smoke billowing out of its door and the windows. None of the Templars followed them, either dead or blocked by the fire. Marissa didn’t really care which just as long as they didn’t follow. They had been lucky. If she and Sebastian hadn’t been out in the streets when the Templars had started their advance they would have had no notice and no time to prepare.

“As much as I’d like to take a direct route to the North Gate, I think it’s best if we take a side route. I know a shortcut though.”

“Sweetling, not all of us are capable of running across the rooftops like you are.”

“I didn’t realize that was an option, Isabela. No, I’ve got a different route in mind.” Marissa turned to Cullen and Taran. “Are you going to be able to keep up? We’re going to be moving fast.”

“We’ll keep up, even if I have to sling her over my shoulder.”

“Like hell you will. I’m fine but that was one nasty smite.”

“Chatter later. Running now, kids,” Isabela scolded before turning back to Marissa, her whiskey eyes filled with mirth and a dash of ire. “Well? Lead on, fearless leader.”

Marissa decided to ignore that comment as she lead them down side streets and alleyways, nearly backtracking the same way she and Sebastian had taken. She could still smell smoke as they tracked northeast through the city but she refused to look back. Looking back would serve no purpose but to slow them down.

Fifteen minutes later they made it to the North Gate. By this time Taran was able to move under her own power, albeit slower than the rest of them. The gate was surprisingly lightly guarded, only a few of the city guard stood their post. Marissa didn’t want to question their good fortune but she suspected that Varric had something to do with it. Proof of that came in the form of a certain redheaded Guard Captain.

“You sure took your time in getting here, Varric.”

“Well, you know how it is Aveline. You try to leave on time, but one thing happens after another and suddenly you’re surrounded by Templars.”

“Care to explain why is there smoke rising from Lowtown?”

“That? Oh. Well, you can blame that on the Templars too. They got a little overzealous in their duties. Again.”

“I see,” Aveline hummed. She nodded to two guardsmen who took off in the direction of Lowtown. Marissa hoped that they would be able to stop the fire but it wasn’t a strong hope.

“You’ll find your horses and supplies where the Dalish used to camp. I sure hope you know what you’re doing Varric.”

“Hey, I’m not the leader of this venture. She is.” Varric jerked his thumb at Marissa and it was all she could do not to scowl at the dwarf. Sebastian laid a calming hand on her shoulder and she managed not to bite off a sharp retort.

“I see,” Aveline said again, giving Marissa a once over. “Well, you had better get going. I can only stall the Templars for so long.”

“Did you find something suitable for our dwarf friend here, Aveline? Those short legs of his don’t mix well with horses.”

Aveline flashed Isabela a grin as she walked them to the gate. “Oh, don’t worry. I found a nice little pony for him.”

“Just to spite you all, my mighty steed and I will beat all of you to The Hundred Pillars, just you watch.”

“Are we done with all this chatter? We need to be going.” Cassandra turned to Aveline, bowing slightly at the Guard Captain. “My thanks for your help, Guard Captain. It will not be forgotten.”

Aveline raised an eyebrow at that. Marissa merely shrugged while Varric let out a laugh. “I’d explain it, Aveline, but as you can see, we’re in a hurry. Say hello to Donnic for me.”

With that they trudged through the door to the left of the main gate. It would seem that Aveline had anticipated that they might be leaving in a hurry and had kept the large gate closed, allowing people to enter and exit only through the door.

Marissa nodded to Aveline as they passed. She felt the Guard Captain’s cool green eyes on her back and could swear that she heard the woman grumble something about foolish crusades getting people killed.

Stepping out through the gate and into the wild Marissa could only hope that their quest wasn’t foolish and that she wouldn’t get anyone killed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to garafthel (sister_wolf) for being an excellent beta.
> 
> Also, I did change the title to this. In it's previous life it was known as All That Lives Must Die. I wrestled with changing it but in the end decided to change it to Unbowed and Unbroken.


	16. Chapter 16

It took them nearly an hour to get to the base of Sundermount. None of them had made it out of the battle with the Templars unscathed. Each carried their own group of bruises and cuts and with Taran out of commission until the smite wore off, they had to rely on elfroot potions for healing. Marissa was lucky to have come out relatively uninjured but Cullen was sporting a  couple of wounds that would leave lovely scars.

The horses were exactly where Aveline had told them where they would be. A young elvhen man sat with them, a disgruntled look plastered on his face. Upon seeing their arrival he snapped to, his shiny new city guard armor creaking as he stood up. Varric dealt with the boy quickly enough before sending him on his way. Marissa watched with some amusement as the dwarf sized up the pony Aveline had found for him. It was good to know that she wasn't the only one who was leery of the four legged beasts.

“Does anyone want to talk about that smite the Templar released?” Marissa finally asked. They had made the trip in relative silence, all focused more on speed than chatter. “I shouldn’t have been able to feel it but it damn near knocked me on my ass.”

“I’ll second that. We all felt it. None of the Templars did though, well, except for you cutie.”

Cullen flushed at Isabela’s words. Clearing his throat he said, “It’s the lyrium. That’s what made that smite so powerful.”

“Of course it’s the lyrium. We all know that Templars use lyrium. It still doesn't explain how he was able to do that.” Marissa tested the bruise on her lip. It was sore to the touch but it would heal.

“No, you misunderstand. Yes, Templars take lyrium but those Templars were taking red lyrium.”

“Red lyrium? Why would they take that? And where would they be getting it? The dwarfs don’t deal in red lyrium. _No one_ deals in red lyrium. You have to be insane to deal with that shit,” Varric swore, tossing his pack to the ground.

“I don’t know where they’re getting it. If I did I’d try to put a stop to it.” Cullen let out a sour laugh. “Not that I’d be able to do much in my current state. Any knowledge I had of Templar operations ended about seven months ago.”

“But surely you must have some idea. I mean the stuff just doesn't grow out of the ground,” Marissa said.

“Actually, it does and there’s only one place that I've seen it and there’s no amount of coin that could convince me to go back there. I've given up plundering primeval Thaigs. There’s no profit in it,” Varric growled as he kicked a stone across the ground. “There’s some great big cosmic joke going on here except I’m not laughing. We should have collapsed all the tunnels leading to that Blighted place. It’s caused nothing but trouble.”

“You couldn’t have known this would happen. No one could predict this,” Sebastian told him, looking as if he was trying to convince himself.

“Nothing good comes from magic. It ruins everything it touches,” Fenris spat out, his tattoos flashing briefly before subsiding.

“Hey, mages aren't the ones taking red lyrium. It’s the fucking Templars. And those assholes were willing to slaughter all of you just to get to me, remember? Is he always this much of a jackass?” Taran asked, leveling her gaze on Marissa.

“We’re all a little on edge here but we don’t have time to let the edges smooth. I have no doubt that the fire in Lowtown won’t slow those Templars down for long. I don’t know about you guys, but I know I’ll feel better once we get more distance between us and Kirkwall.”

“No argument here, sweetheart, but it appears once again we have more people than horses. Unless this is where we part ways, cutie,” Isabela drawled, directing the last comment toward Cullen.

Cullen darted a glance toward Taran. The elf crossed her arms and just glared back at him, her stance making her opinion quite clear. Marissa watched them, her lips pursing in contemplation. How did these two know each other?

“If you’re going to find a way to stop this madness, I would like to join you. Another sword is always helpful.”

“Not if it’s a Templar sword. Marissa, didn’t you say that we needed a small group not an army?”

“Taran, please, eight people hardly makes an army. He could be useful.”

“This is bullshit,” Taran barked and marched off toward the horses, her spine straight.

“You know, once, just once, I’d like to have a mage in the group that wasn't moody. Be a nice change,” Varric mused as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“The only reason Merrill got moody was because Hawke refused to help her with that mirror of hers, otherwise she was quite adorable,” Isabela replied, ignoring the snort of disbelief that came from Fenris. Marissa tried to swallow her frustration. All this bickering was getting them nowhere and the longer they waited the closer the Templars would get.

“If my presence here will cause a problem I can leave.”

“No, I’ll talk to her. I wasn't lying when I said another sword is always helpful. She’s just… touchy where Templars are concerned,” Marissa told him and then her eyes went hard. “I think you’re a good man Cullen, but I’d tread carefully here if I were you. Taran saved my life. If not for her I wouldn't be standing here now. I owe her a lot more than I owe you and I will cut you loose if I think you’re a danger to this group.”

“I understand. I don’t intend to start anything. You’re not the only one who owes her.”

Cullen walked off before Marissa could ask him what he meant. The man carried a haunted look about him, one that hadn’t been there a year ago. She wondered what had changed.

“We should be going. The day is nearly half-over and we should be more distance between us and Kirkwall.”

Those were the first words that Cassandra had spoken since they had left Kirkwall. The woman was remarkably self-contained but Marissa couldn’t believe that she was taking the Templars’ rebellion in stride. She knew from personal experience that having your world torn down around you left a mark.

“Well, the Hundred Pillars is pretty much straight north from here but our path won’t be. Lots of mountains and rivers and plains between here and there. And not all of it friendly.”

“Of course it’s not, because that would be boring. We can’t just drink our way up there. Well, I suppose we could, plenty of taverns and the like on the way, but a girl likes some variety and a little bloodshed can be just the thing to brighten the day.”

“Not to mention that you can take their stuff after we kill them?” Marissa asked her, to which Isabela’s grin only got wider. Cassandra looked as if she was having second and third thoughts about continuing on with them while Fenris just shook his head, laughing softly. Sebastian looked as if he didn’t know what to do with either of them.

“Speaking of stuff, I need you to look at something.” Without giving Marissa a chance to respond, Isabela grabbed her arm and pulled her around the horses, putting several yards between them and the rest of the group.

“That’s a nice bow you’ve got there. Where’d you get it?”

“Are you practicing pick-up lines, because I have to say that’s pretty lame, especially for you.”

“Don’t be an ass. I thought you left that underneath a pile of darkspawn.”

“I did.”

Isabela waited for maybe three seconds before she rolled her eyes. “Come on, sweetheart, spill. It was Choir Boy, wasn't it?”

“Why do you even bother asking if you already know? You knew he and Varric went to Master Wade’s to get me new armor.”

“ _That_ I knew, we all did. This,” Isabela said, gesturing to the bow, “ _This_ I did not know. Can’t believe Choir Boy managed to pull this behind my back.”

“Isabela, can you please not call him that?”

“Aw, you’ve gone all soft on him. What? One roll in the sack and you’re in love? I thought I taught you better than that,” she drawled only to be quickly shushed as Marissa cast a cautious glance over her shoulder. Sebastian was adjusting the saddle on one of the horses, seemingly oblivious but Marissa had a suspicion that he was keenly aware that they were talking about him.

“No. You can’t. Really? Oh, sweetheart, you should never be the first one to say I love you.”

“I wasn't.”

“You weren't? Oh, my. Well, that puts a different spin on it. What did you say?”

“Basically?”

Isabela rolled her eyes again. “Yes basically.”

“That he couldn’t possibly be serious. And when he said he was, I said ‘I know’ and then the Templars came calling and we haven’t really talked since.”

“Ah, that would explain the pained look on his face. I thought he had gotten something unpleasant stuck up his ass again. Turns out it’s just you.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Isabela.”

“Calm down, sweetheart, it’s just an expression. Well, sometimes it is.” Isabela waved her hand, dismissing the thought. “You know he’s not going to let it go. His type never does.”

“His type?”

“The ones who when they make a vow, they stick to it, no matter how stupid it is.”

“So,” Marissa said softly. “The idea of loving me is stupid?”

“ _Now_ who has a stick up their ass? Maker’s balls, Marissa, you two should just go fuck again. Won’t help your little emotional problem but at least maybe the two of you will be less cranky.”

“Isabela!”

“Now, now, don’t go all prude on me. It doesn’t suit you. But you know I’m right, he’s not going to let it lie for long.”

Marissa sighed, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He was securing his pack to his horse’s saddle, his tanned fingers deftly moving across the straps, making sure it was just so. A lock of hair fell onto his forehead and Marissa felt her mouth go dry at the thought of her hands in his hair again. Where did this fetish for his hair come from? But she couldn’t deny how she loved the feel of it in her fingers, how its rich colors blended against her skin.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” Isabela snapped her fingers in front of Marissa’s face, pulling her out of her thoughts. The pirate wore a look of bemusement and exasperation. “Andraste’s flaming asshole it’s like dealing with a couple of horny teenagers. Except with feelings.”

“Oh stuff it, Isabela. If you’re going to try to tell me you don’t feel something for Fenris, I’ll call you a fucking liar.”

“Oh but we’re not talking about me and Fenris right now. He and I, we’re… comfortable with each other, and that’s more than enough. You two, on the other hand, that’s a completely different story.”

“One that doesn't need to be discussed right now, I’m thinking. We should get going.”

“You know that line’s not going to work for much longer, right? The longer you ignore this, the worse it will get.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Marissa told her before starting to walk away.

“I’d be careful, that bridge’ll come sooner than you think,” the pirate called after her and it was all Marissa could do to not hunch her shoulders at the remark. Of course she knew that she couldn’t ignore it forever but she could damn well try. No one had ever said those words to her before, at least, not in that way. The concept of romantic love was foreign to her, something she had never experienced or even really seen.

“Maker’s balls,” she grumbled as she turned around to find that all the horses save one had been claimed and the group was starting to make its way toward the mountain path. She stepped forward lightly, eyeing the creature carefully. She had serious doubts that she would ever be completely comfortable around them. As she neared it, the horse lifted its head to nudge at her arm and Marissa just barely managed to restrain herself from jumping back. A soft chuckle at her back caused a flush to raise upon her cheeks.

“He’s just saying hello. He remembers you from our trip to Kirkwall.”

Not taking her eyes off the beast Marissa started to take a careful step back but was stopped by a solid chest behind her. Hands came up to rest on her shoulders, a  thumb gently brushing against the curve of her neck and it was all she could do to not shudder under his touch.

“Uh huh, right,” Marissa drawled. “If we didn’t need speed on our side I’d say we walk all the way.”

“I find this aversion you have to horses quite puzzling to be honest. I know they have horses in Ferelden.”

“Of course we do but that doesn't mean that everyone has one or knows how to ride them.” His thumb had started stroking her skin in light circles, causing her breath to catch in her throat.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“You very well know what, Sebastian. We don’t have time for any shenanigans.”

“Is that what they call it?” His words came out as a whisper as he leaned forward, his breath caressing her skin. “I think we should test it out, just to be sure.”

“Hey, lovebirds! If you’re so keen on leaving, get your asses on that horse and let’s get going. Burning daylight here.” Varric’s voice carried from up the path. Marissa jumped guiltily at his words. Looking around she could see that everyone else was already mounted, waiting maybe twenty yards ahead, looking expectantly at the two of them.

Stepping out of his embrace, Marissa shot a glare at him. “You were a brother in the Chantry. Shouldn't you show some restraint or something?”

“Not when it comes to you apparently, _mo ghrá_.”

“Well, try. I don’t like being a spectacle for the rest to gawk at.”

Sebastian grabbed her by the waist, his fingers tipping her head up to him. His eyes blazed like hot blue flames as he stared at her.

“You and I shall have a discussion soon, this I promise you.”

Without waiting for her response, he turned and mounted the horse and stretched his hand down to her. Marissa scrunched her nose at it briefly before clasping it, letting him pull her up behind him. He nudged the horse into a fast trot so quickly that she was forced to grasp onto him lest she fall off.

“That was a dirty, dirty trick Sebastian. I would have thought such things beneath you.”

“Just try to hang on. Sundermount is tricky enough to navigate while on foot.”

“All the more reason to walk,” she grumbled to herself even as she redoubled her grip.

~~~

Marissa lost track of time as they rode through the mountains. Once the sun had dipped behind the peaks it was difficult to tell what time of day it was but it had to be getting close to sundown. They’d have to stop soon and make camp and hope that they were far enough ahead of any Templars that might be following them; that probably were following them. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe that they would give up their hunt so easily.

And now that they were being powered by red lyrium who knew how deep their stamina pool went. It wasn't something she wanted to find out anytime soon.

How desperate were they, to use red lyrium? Very desperate, she concluded. Or mad. Or a combination of the two. Whatever the reason it meant nothing good for Thedas. Dread curdled in her stomach as she wondered how many Templars were taking the stuff. Another thing she was afraid to know the answer to. If just one Templar taking red lyrium could release a smite that could knock non-magic users on their asses what could ten, or twenty, or a hundred do?

She was so embroiled in her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed that Sebastian had slowed their horse, letting them fall behind the others. It wasn't until a beam of sunlight pierced over an edge and pierced her vision that she became aware that they had fallen behind.

“Why have we slowed down? Is there something wrong with the horse? Please say there’s nothing wrong with the horse.”

“The horse is fine, Marissa. I did tell you we were going to have a discussion.”

“Now? _Now_ you want to have a discussion?”

“It seems as good a time as any. Besides, I think this is the closest to privacy we’re apt to get for a while and you did say not too long ago that you don’t like making a spectacle.”

“Sure throw those words back at me why don’t you?” Marissa let that sit for a moment, waiting for him to start whatever it was he thought was so important. She had a feeling that she wasn't going to enjoy this much.

“Well? Am I suppose to guess? I’m not a fan of guessing games.”

“Do you remember what I said to you in that alley.”

“You said many things to me. And we've been in more than one alley, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Don’t be a brat, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Marissa rolled her eyes before squeezing them shut. Nope, she wasn’t going to enjoy this.

“Do we have to talk about this _now_? I don’t think this is the best time to bring this up.”

“Do you want me to bring it up over tonight’s meal in front of everyone?”

“You wouldn't dare. You don’t like spectacles anymore than I do.”

“Oh there was a time when I didn’t care if I made a spectacle or not, and right now, I’m leaning in that direction, but this is a private matter, one that belongs to us.”

Marissa would have given much at that moment to be ambushed by darkspawn or bandits or even giant spiders. Anything to not have to deal with this. She was still trying to process the mere fact that he said he loved her and hadn’t even touched on the fact that he believed it.

“Marissa,” he said softly, his burr thickening with each syllable.

“This is ridiculous. I’m not having this conversation now, especially not with the back of your head.”

“That, fortunately, can be changed.”

Before she knew what he was about, he had somehow snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her around him so that she was now sitting in his lap. Blinking, she tried to figure out exactly how he had managed it without her falling off the horse.

“There we go. That’s better.”

“Not really. We’re still on a horse.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, my lady.”

“And I don’t like being manhandled like this.”

“So noted but I’m afraid we don’t have the privacy for a different kind of manhandling.”

Marissa eyed him carefully. “Are you sure you were a Brother in the Chantry? You sure don’t act like any man of faith I’ve met.”

“Oh, ask Fenris or any of the others and they can assure you that I was a Brother and I’m still a man of faith. But,” and at this he grasped her chin with his free hand. “I am also a man, one who’s been tossed about by a whirlwind slip of a girl. A girl, a woman, who doesn’t seem to believe what she’s worth, who doesn’t seem to believe that she deserves to be loved.”

Marissa broke her gaze off from him, not able to meet his eyes and his direct gaze. Maker, why was he insisting on talking about this?

“I’m insisting because I don’t think you believe me when I say that I love you.”

“How could you possible love me? Beyond the fact that we barely know each other, we come from two different worlds, worlds that barely acknowledge that the other exists except when it suits them to. Yours when you need to crush your heel upon something, mine when I need to lighten some pockets.”

“Stop it. You are more than a thief, so much more. Why can’t you see it?” The horse had come to a full stop as her grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “Why are you trying to put up a wall between us.”

 _Because you don’t know what I've done. You don’t know how many people I've killed_ , she thought to herself as she jerked her chin out of his hand and launched herself off the horse, making for the tree line. She ignored Sebastian’s shout and kept running through the bush, dodging trees and rocks with the practised ease of someone who had spent her life running. Branches tried to slap at her as she burst through them but she was too fast to be caught by the recoil.

 _Keep running_ , her brain told her, _it’s the only way you’ll stay safe_.

 _Keep running_ , her heart told her, _it’s the only way you won’t break_.

Sebastian’s voice followed her, pleading with her to stop. He wasn’t that far behind her, his long legs enabling him to keep up but he didn’t have her speed.

She glanced over her shoulder, just a brief glance, just a small moment of inattention to the ground in front of her and that was all it took for a hidden root to snag her toe and send her flying forward. Her face slammed into the soft earth and she tasted blood as she made to get up but she wasn’t quick enough. Twenty seconds was all Sebastian needed to catch up with her and grab hold of her. Twenty seconds to get a hold on her that this time she couldn’t break.

“Let me go, Sebastian.”

“No, I won’t do that. Why do you run, _mo ghrá_? What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid. Please let me go.”

“Liar. You’re afraid that if I know about your past I won’t love you anymore.”

Marissa kept silent. As hard as it was to admit to herself that he loved her, it was even harder to imagine losing that love. Love was a fragile thing in her experience. One that was easily lost and broken.

“I don’t care what you’ve done. Both of us have done things we regret doing. I asked, no, _demanded_ a man I considered a good friend, a man I respected to kill his lover outright, in cold blood. I demanded swift justice but I was really seeking vengeance and when I didn’t get what I wanted, I walked away. I walked away from people who I cared about and had fought by their side for eight years.” Sebastian took a breath, framing his hands around her face, brushing tears away from beneath her eyes.

“At a time when they needed help, I walked away because I was so filled with with my own pain and anger that I couldn’t see beyond that. It wasn’t long before I realized what I had done but by then it was too late. The battle in the Gallows was over and my friends had scattered to the wind. It was then that I realized that I was not worthy of my title and I put my armor away.”

Something gripped her heart as she listened to his words and she had to swallow the sob that threatened to escape her throat. He regretted his actions, that was plain. She couldn’t say the same.

“It’s different,” she whispered and again tried to tuck into herself but he stopped her by simply resting his forehead against hers. With a ragged breath she inhaled the scent of him, trying to put it to memory. “I’ve killed people, Sebastian. I’ve killed them for money and I was good at it.”

“Were any of them innocent?”

“No, but that’s not--.”

“Would they have hurt others if you hadn’t stopped them?”

“Probably, but that--.”

“Then I don’t care.”

Marissa pulled back, searching his face. “How can you say that? Those people died at my hand. There were no courts involved, no official sanctions. It was just a shadow with a blade and then blood and death.

“And you just sat here and told me that killing in cold blood, or wanting to, was what made you unworthy of your title, so what does that make me?”

“It makes you the woman I love. My actions were from a place of anger, not justice. Yours, while not entirely legal, were made from a place of justice.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I do, I do know that.”

“Sebastian, the first man I ever killed, I did so with vengeance in my heart. It was revenge. Nothing more.”

Sebastian sat back on his heels. She was determined to hate herself and in turn, to make him hate her. He absently rubbed the back of his neck, unsure where to go.

“You told me the Warden killed Arl Howe.”

“And she did, but I’m not talking about that.” Marissa slumped fully onto the ground, her shoulders slumped in a way he’d never seen them before. Apparently she had decided that they were defeated before they had begun. He’d have to disabuse her of that notion. He had no intention of giving up on them.

She unslung her bow and cradled it in her lap. With one finger she traced the scrollwork down the arm. She could barely see the place where it had fractured. Master Wade had been right. It was like the bow had wanted to be fixed.

“This was given to me not long after the Battle of Denerim. With Howe dead and the Blight over I was lost as to what to do. I had no one. If Nathaniel hadn’t come along, I probably would have ended up in one of the gangs in Denerim or signed on with a mercenary group.” Marissa paused, a sharp, rueful smile rising to her lips. “I was a good thief. He made me a better one.”

“Nathaniel? Nathaniel Howe?”

Marissa nodded, not seeing the flash of surprise on Sebastian’s face. “He came back from the Free Marches to find his family disgraced and his lands taken on account of what his father had done. He had thought to take it back but that bastard Orlesian threatened him with death for daring to break in.” She snorted. “Idiot got himself caught. He was lucky I was there to break him out and that Seneschal Varel wasn’t a fan of the Warden-Commander.”

“He was the one who gave you the bow, wasn’t he?”

Marissa gave another nod, her fingers still stroking the scrollwork. “He found me on the road just outside of Denerim. I don’t know why, but he took pity on me. He kept me out of the mud, at least for while.”

“I doubt it was pity, _mo ghrá_ ,” he soothed, wanting to reach out to her but instinctively knew to hold back. She wasn’t ready to be touched, not yet.

“The Warden-Commander, may he rot in the Void for eternity, he never forgot that Nathaniel escaped or forgot any insult we delivered upon him in the following year.” Now she did smile. “And we heaved a lot of insults his way.”

“You interfered with the Wardens’ mission?”

“Oh don’t look so horrified, Sebastian. Nothing like that. We stole back things he took and embarrassed him at every turn. And he made it easy. There were very few in Amaranthine who liked the Warden-Commander. Even his companions hated him.” The smile slipped from her face again, her eyes becoming hard. “He killed Nate. He never admitted it. But I _know_ he killed him.”

Tears were flooding out from her eyes but Sebastian wasn’t sure that she noticed. She had fallen in on herself, lost in the memory. Now he did take her in his arms. He gently pulled the bow out of her hands and set it aside before wrapping his arms around her.

“He was untouchable. Even though everyone hated him, he was untouchable because he was a Grey Warden. So I took justice where none was to be had.”

Sebastian rested his cheek on her head and prayed. _Blessed Andraste, please watch over your child and give her strength._

“Did you honestly think that by telling me this I would love you any less? None of us are saints Marissa. You are only human and I can’t honestly say that you did the wrong thing in this case.”

Marissa’s head snapped up at that. “You cannot be serious.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that to me today and I’m forced to say again that I am completely serious.” He leaned forward to kiss the corner of one eye and then ghosted over her face to kiss the other. His fingers threaded up into her hair, holding her head steady as he placed soft kisses down her cheek and up her jawline. Marissa’s hands clenched around the buckles to his armor when he gently pulled her head back, baring her throat to him. A shudder ran through her as he scraped his teeth along her skin to that spot where her neck met her shoulder and he nipped at it before laving it with his tongue.

“You seem to like that spot,” she sighed, a small smile growing on her lips as he chuckled.

“It’s one of many. I’m starting a list.”

“A list?”

“Yes, and I fear it will be a long one. I’m just getting started.”

“Oh.”

He had switched to the other side of her neck but not before nuzzling the hollow of her throat. She had thought it before but it came to mind again that he was entirely way too good at this for someone who had spent over a decade hidden away in the Chantry.

Her hands crept up his chest, eager to get her fingers in his hair but he suddenly stopped and clasped her hands to him, his larger hands easily holding hers in place.

“Sebastian?” It took an effort to force eyes open that she hadn’t realized she’d closed but she managed only to find him staring at her intently, his blue eyes two dark flames that she could swear could burn through her if given half a chance.

“I’m going to say something here in the hopes that you’ll actually believe me when I say that I love you. No, just listen,” he said when she opened her mouth to protest. “Tis true before I was sent to the Chantry that I was a wild boy, one who took pleasure where I could, and while I wasn’t exactly careless with those I shared a bed with I can’t say that I loved any of them.

“My grandfather once told me that the Vaels were as passionate as they were pious. I never truly believed him in that. I had seen my parents with each other and saw no love there. Duty yes, but no love,” Sebastian paused as he bent down and placed a soft kiss on her bruised knuckles. That move, such a gentle thing, more than anything wedged open that crack in her heart he had made and she knew then that no force on this planet would be able to remove him.

“I never knew my grandmother Meghan Vael, she died before I was old enough to remember her. To hear grandfather speak of her, she was a thing to marvel. He told me then that Vaels love fiercely and forever and now I know what he meant. I was too young to understand it then but I’m not now.” He paused here, releasing her hands long enough to cradle her face between his hands. “I love you, Marissa, and there is nothing in all of Thedas, including you, that will ever change that.”

Marissa’s mouth had gone dry during his speech and now she struggled to swallow. How was she to respond to that?

“You really mean it, don’t you?”

“Ach, you exasperating woman, yes I really mean it. The question is do you believe that I do?”

“I do,” she told him. “I know liars, Sebastian, and you’re not one of them. It’s just, it’s just hard.”

“I know, _mo ghrá_ , I know.”

“I’m not an easy person to be around, Sebastian. I’m a thief and a liar and I like to stab things on occasion.”

“All of which I can deal with as long as you don’t lie to me. I’d stay don’t steal from me either, but you’ve already done that.” At her quizzical look, he took her hands and placed them over his heart. Marissa stared at him for a moment before rolling her eyes.

“You’re a sap, you know that right?”

“Only with you.”

Marissa rolled her eyes again and made to get up. The others had to be wondering where they had gotten off to. The man moved so quickly that she didn’t realize that she was on her back until her was stretched out over her.

“Get off me, you big oaf. They’ll be wondering what happened to us.”

“They can wait a while longer.” His mouth had found that spot on her neck again and this time he bit down hard enough to leave a mark, the action sending a spear of pleasure through her. “I mean to try out this shenanigans you were speaking of earlier.”

“You daft man, we can’t--.”

He stopped her protest with a kiss, his tongue stroking into her mouth as he sunk a knee between her legs. Heat bloomed on her skin and suddenly she found her armor incredibly uncomfortable, something that if Master Wade ever heard the poor man would probably have kittens. And suddenly her armor wasn’t that much of an issue when she felt his warm hand against her skin.

“I should find it distressing at how easily you manage to take my armor off,” she sighed, arching into his touch as his hand caressed her skin, the other tugging at the edges of her armor to bare more skin.

“I’m a quick study, my lady,” he whispered against her mouth.

“So am I,” was all the warning he got before he found their positions switched and she was straddled across his waist. He couldn’t deny that he was entirely upset by the change either as he sat up and pushed the rest of her armor off, revealing the thin shirt she wore under it. She proved to be just as quick and agile in removing his armor. Being in love with a thief with deft hands definitely had its advantages. Of course he couldn’t really cast any stones in that department.

Nimble fingers and an inventive imagination were very useful tools.

Sebastian put those fingers to use loosening the ties to her leathers, pulling them down over her hips and relishing in the feel of her skin under his hands. He had a feeling that they wouldn’t be able to have many moments like this in the coming weeks and he wanted to savor every moment of it. Marissa had other ideas as she released his cock from his leathers, brushing her thumb over the head. Any thought of taking this slow fled from his mind as her reared up and latched onto one of her breasts, sucking at the nipple through the soft linen of her shirt.

Marissa let her head fall back, enjoying the jolt of pleasure that sang through her body. With her one hand trapped between them, wrapped around his cock, she stretch back behind her and tugged one boot off. With the nimbleness she was known for, she slithered her leg out of her leathers and wrapped it around his waist, pulling him closer. Sebastian growled as he moved to her other breast and dug his fingers into her bottom, kneading the flesh.

Keeping a firm grip on him, she twisted her hand and slid it down the length of his shaft, pleased when he involuntarily bucked into her hand. Oh how lovely it was to have him lose control. She’d just have to see what else she could do. It would take some control of her own as she could feel herself grow wet, drenching her smalls. A lot of control she decided as Sebastian had apparently decided that her smalls were no longer necessary and ripped them away, tossing them somewhere in the grass.

He shifted his hands to underneath her, lifting her off his lap, his fingers just barely touching the edge of her folds. Marissa tried to wiggle into his hands, wanting to feel his fingers on her sensitive flesh but he held her still, muscles built from years of archery practice easily allowing him to keep his hold. In retaliation she gently squeezed his cock before running her fingers to its base and cupped his balls.

“No rules, remember?” she whispered when he hissed at her. “You tease me, I get to tease you, but if you don’t get inside me soon I’m going to explode.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” His voice was rough, his Starkhaven brogue thickened with desire. He pulled her further up, moving his legs so that he was on his knees. Marissa reflexively placed her hands on his shoulders for balance as he maneuvered underneath her. She could feel the tip off his cock brushing against her and wanting him inside her, she swung her other leg around his waist so that they were locked around him. Leaning forward, she licked and kissed a trail down his jawline before tugging at his earlobe. He wasn’t the only one would could tease.

“Look at me Marissa. Look at me, _mo grhá_ ,” he demanded. Marissa slowly made her way back up his jaw, scraping her teeth along the edge. She knew her eyes were slightly unfocused when she met his but she didn’t care. All she knew was that she wanted him and wanted him now.

“You know, I don’t even know what that means,” she whispered against his lips, trying to capture the lower one between her teeth but he pulled back at the last second, evading her. A frustrated growl escaped her even as she capitulated and held still.

“It means, my love, and that’s what you are. There are a thousand other endearments I could call you but that one is the most honest. You are my love.” As those words rolled over her he slowly slid into her, using his strength to ease her onto him until he was fully immersed in her tight warmth.

Marissa couldn’t find her breath and it had little to do with what he was doing to her body. Well, maybe more than a little but it was the naked truth in his eyes that did it. Almost without her permission her entire body clenched around him, as if she held on tightly enough she could keep him with her forever.

And suddenly she wanted to burn out that fear, the fear that she would lose him. Rocking her hips against him she began to move. She wasn’t nice about it and she wasn’t gentle. Digging her fingers into his shoulders she used them as leverage, pushing both of them harder and faster. Sebastian was more than happy to indulge her as he braced his hands on her hips and thrust up into her. It was heat and speed mixed with desperate need and it didn’t take long for either of them to reach their peak.

Marissa’s back arched and she threw her head back as her orgasm ran through her, a wildfire of emotion and sensation bursting all at once. Her blood was pounding so mercilessly in her ears that she barely heard Sebastian shout out her name as he came hard within her. Marissa folded her body around him again, holding everything tight and wanting to stay in this moment forever. Human bodies were frail however and their sweat-slicked skin made for poor purchase. She was saved the indignity of falling off him when he fell back, bringing her with him.

Lying on his chest she could hear his heart racing, the organ beating against his chest. Her own was slamming against her breast as she tried to get her breath back.

It was unclear to her how long they lay there but it was long enough for the sweat to cool on their skin and for her quivering muscles to start to seize up. If they didn’t move soon there would be some serious cramping to deal with.

“Sebastian,” she murmured into his chest. “We should get up.”

“Mmm,” was his response as he carded his fingers through her hair. It was all she could do to not purr as his fingers gently massaged her skull. Okay, she thought, sinking into him a little further, maybe they could lie there a bit longer.

A screech of some animal brought them out of their post-coital daze. Reluctantly, Marissa pushed herself up to a sitting position. Sebastian followed her, stopping her with a soft kiss before pulling back to search her face. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for but he must have been pleased with it as he dropped another kiss on her lips before letting her go and standing up.

Sitting on the ground Marissa reattached her breastband and wondered just where her smalls had gotten to. She could go without them but she prefered not to. A soft chuckle attracted her attention and looking over she saw Sebastian picking them off the ground, fingering the fabric.

“Can I have my smalls back please? I’d rather not walk around without them.” At his raised eyebrow Marissa let out of huff of breath and held out her hand for them, waiting patiently. When he didn’t move, she rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to fuel your perverted fantasies Sebastian. Give me my smalls.”

He strode toward her, no, that was not a man who strolled. His moves were too smooth and fluid for strolling. This was the walk of a predator. And he was smiling.

Rather than handing over her smalls Sebastian took her hand and pulled her to her feet. She made to grab for her smalls but his other hand snaked out lightning fast, stopping her. Marissa narrowed her eyes, wondering what he was playing at.

He rested his hands lightly on her hips. Her armor was still undone, her linen shirt barely covering the tops of her thighs, and her leathers were tangled around her feet. She could only imagine the picture she made.

“Sebastian, I need to get dressed. The others will be wondering where we are.”

“Mmmhm,” he hummed, his fingers lifting up the edge of her shirt, the rough tips scraping across her skin. Marissa’s breath caught in her throat and she found her eyes starting to close as his hands continued to roam. Snapping them open, she snatched her smalls from his hand and took two steps back.

“You stop right there, you just stop right there, Sebastian. I’m barely able to stand on my legs as it is. I don’t need you stirring it all up again,” she told him as she quickly tied on her smalls and pulled up her leathers, doing up the laces before he could step forward.

“Oh really?” Marissa didn’t like the gleam in his eyes. “Do I disturb you, my lady?”

“You know damn well you do, you maniac.” Already she could feel heat flush up her skin. Maker curse him, the man knew exactly what he was doing. How he was already able to follow through on his thoughts was another story.

He took another step forward and Marissa held a breath as he pulled her armor closed, his fingers moving blindly over the buckles as he kept his eyes focused on hers. Marissa managed a quick glance down to see that every buckle and strap was in place.

“You know, I’m capable of dressing myself. Been doing it for years in fact.”

“Hmmm. True, but I enjoy assisting you with your clothes.”

“You enjoy _relieving_ me of my clothes.”

“Well, there’s that too,” he admitted, taking her hand in his before lifting it to his lips, never taking his eyes off her. “I love you.”

Marissa swallowed, overwhelmed by what was going on inside her. The mix of arousal and heavy emotion. This man had opened up parts of her that she didn’t even know had existed or had buried so deep she had forgotten she had them.

“I know. I-.”

“Shhh. It’s okay.” He leaned down to brush his lips against hers. “Only when you’re ready.”

He stepped away and started gathering their weapons, leaving her with a puzzled frown on her face. He wasn’t going to push her to say the words? That didn’t make any sense.

“If you want to be going I suggest putting on your other boot.”

Marissa looked stupidly down at her feet, seeing one booted foot and the other bare against the forest floor. She needed to focus. Forgetting her footwear was starting to be a habit around this man.

“Shall we?” he asked, holding out his hand. She eyed it warily.

“You’re not going to jump me again, are you?”

“Only if you want me to but I thought you were in a hurry.”

Marissa snorted and started to walk past him but stopped and turned back. Reaching out, she took his hand in hers. Savoring the warmth, she let it flow through her as they traced her route back to the path where they had left the horse. It was still standing there when they returned, nibbling on some grass. Upon their approach the horse lifted its head and snorted at them, as if disgusted by their behavior.

“There’s a good lad. Thank you for waiting so patiently,” Sebastian said as he rubbed a hand down its neck. The horse shook its head, as if in a scolding manner. “Yes, I know. We humans are foolish creatures, not as steady as a horse. Please forgive us.”

“You know he can’t understand you right?”

“Hush you. Starkhaven horses are quite intelligent and noble beasts. Not unlike the mabari hounds of Fereldan. They are loyal and true.” Turning his eyes back to her, a crooked smile lifted his lips. “Yes, I’m waxing a bit nostalgic but I do miss being around them. Miss raising and training them.”

Marissa stepped closer, placing her hand on the horse’s neck. The animal chuffed but didn’t shrink from her touch, nor she from its reaction.

“Couldn’t you still do that? I mean, once all this is done?”

Something clouded Sebastian’s face for a brief moment and was gone just as quickly. “Perhaps, but that’s a question for another time. Let’s go shall we? As you’ve said several times now, they’ll be wondering where we’ve gotten off to.”

Marissa waited while he mounted the horse and readily took his proffered hand to help boost her up behind him. She held on loosely to his hips as he set them at a steady trot, a small frown marring her face as she thought of the uncertain future that lay ahead of them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks to Garafthel (Sister_Wolf) for being an excellent beta. This story is all the better for it.
> 
> Also thanks to all who've read, left kudos, and commented. All are greatly appreciated.


	17. Chapter 17

“Here they come. Pay up, Varric. Told you they would be longer than a half hour.”

Varric tossed her a pouch a coins, a chagrined look on his face. “I’ll concede to your win on the grounds that you’ve been around them longer. Maker’s breath, I just hope history doesn't repeat itself. Remember that time we went to Orlais and Hawke almost started a war but took the time for some afternoon delight? And that was _after_ he was covered in wyvern shit.”

“I _do_ remember, yes, and the smell was quite awful.” Isabela glanced at the approaching couple, her eyes calculating as she tossed Fenris his share of the winnings. Varric chuckled good-naturedly as the elf pocketed the coin. “Considering the years of celibacy we’re talking about here I’m honestly surprised this is the first time this has happened. We can probably expect more delays like this on the way to our destination.”

“This is unacceptable. The fate of Thedas is at risk and she pauses for a dalliance in the woods? They put everything at risk.”

“Oh, don’t get your smalls in a twist, Seeker. We were stopping for the night soon anyway and they've caught up with us. What’s the harm?”

Cassandra turned on the two of them, her golden eyes flaring. “What’s the harm? We cannot afford time for such… things. It’s unprofessional and unbecoming.”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude, kitten. I could do with some unprofessional activity myself. Are you game?” Isabela waggled her eyebrows at Cassandra, a slow smile curving her lips. At her side Fenris chuckled before taking a drink from his wine skin.

Cassandra sputtered at that before stomping off to the other side of the camp, every muscle in her body radiating outrage.

“I’d be careful in taunting that one, Rivaini. She’d as much run her sword through you as look at you.”

“Oh, stuff it. You've taunted her much more than I have and I don’t see any holes in you.”

“That’s because I have such a charming personality not to mention fantastic chest hair.”

“I’ll have you know that I am very charming, though I’ll allow that you’re one up on me in the chest hair department.”

“Well, we can’t all be perfect.”

Isabela threw her head back in laughter, the rich throatiness of it filling the campsite. By now Sebastian and Marissa had made it to their encampment and had dismounted from their horse. Sebastian hovered over her friend, whispering something into her ear. Isabela smiled again as Marissa’s face flushed red. Oh my, she thought, what naughty nothings was the Choir Boy saying to make the woman blush so?

“Have to say, never thought I’d see the day where Choir Boy would get that Chantry stick out of his ass.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s still there in one form or another, Rivaini. Hawke helped in some respects with that I think. That, and I think there were only two responses available to him after what happened in Kirkwall. Either become a warrior for the Divine or make his own path. Have to say I’m pleasantly surprised that he took the latter. I’d hate to see all my hard work put to waste.”

Isabela slid a glance over to her friend. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you meddling again?”

“Not so much meddling again as a continuation of previous meddling. Choir Boy over there may not think that he’s worthy of being Prince of Starkhaven but he’s better than what they have now. You've heard the stories I assume?”

“I try not to. Inlanders don’t concern me much besides how much coin and pretty trinkets I can relieve them of.”

“You might want to start paying attention then, Rivaini.” Varric sat forward, setting the cloth he was polishing Bianca with to the side. “Choir Boy over there doesn't realize it yet, but things have taken a turn for the worse in Starkhaven. That cousin of his, Goran, has run damn near the city into the ground. He’s in debt so deep he’s below the Deep Roads. It’s been piss poor management and stupid investment decisions since day one and it’s only gotten worse. The one thing that Goran has done well is cover up his messes but you can find them if you know where to look.”

“And you always know where to look.”

Varric saluted her with his wine skin before tipping it back.

“You are going to tell him though, yes? He deserves to know.”

“I will, Broody, don’t worry. Just need a little tweaking and nudging so he gets the idea back in his head that retaking his seat is a good idea.”

“You mean to manipulate him? Why not just outright tell him? I don’t think you are doing him any favors by sneaking around his back.”

“It’s not sneaking per se, Fenris. It’s prudent application of knowledge at the appropriate time. You forget, I stayed in Kirkwall after you all left. Sebastian came back after it was all said and done, and, well, his remorse for abandoning Hawke was genuine and he’s been trying to atone for that ever since.”

“By doing what exactly? With a few exceptions, the man has let himself be blown about like a rowboat on high seas since we met him,” Isabela pointed out.

“That’s, ah, a discussion for another time. Here they come.”

Isabela had to choke back a laugh as Marissa and Sebastian approached. She wondered if Marissa knew that she had a couple of leaves sticking out of her hair. Sebastian stole the opportunity to rib her about it when he casually plucked the leaves out with Marissa none the wiser, the glint in his eye warding off any remark she would have made. Instead she saluted him with her wine skin. She should have suspected that Sebastian would be the protective type. Hadn't he proved as much when he had declared himself to be the Grand Cleric's shield against those wicked mages? A wry smile twisted her lips at the thought of how well that would go over with Marissa. The girl had been on her own for too long to take easily to such care-taking.

Sebastian led the horse over to where they had hobbled the others, leaving an unsuspecting Marissa to the tender mercies of her friends."I don't suppose we have anything started for supper, do we? I'm starving," Marissa stated as she sat down. There was a moment's silence before the Isabela and Varric burst out into raucous laughter. Even Fenris chuckled to himself. Marissa glared at the three of them, instantly guessing what amused them so.

"Oh, stuff it, the lot of you," she grumbled before snatching the wine skin from Isabela, taking a healthy swig before tossing it back to her. "You're just jealous."

"Some of us, perhaps, but not all. Our dear Seeker was rather annoyed at the delay."

"Delay? There was no delay. You stopped for the night, we just... took a while to catch up."

"Is that what they're calling it now, sweet thing? Care to share?"

"Not bloody likely. You'll just have to use your imagination, Isabela."

"Careful now, the Rivaini's got quite an imagination, as do I for that matter."

Marissa narrowed her eyes at the two of them. Varric was well known for his ability to spin a story and the thought of her becoming a central character didn't appeal to her at all. Before she could form an appropriate response, Taran dropped two books in her lap before sitting down next to her. They smelled of smoke and the Seeker book looked a little singed around the edges but otherwise they had survived the attack relatively unscathed.

"You were able to save them?

"And your notes as well, little good they'll do if we can't figure out what the hell it's all supposed to mean. We have some time, _some_ , but not much. Are we really keeping the Templar?"

Marissa paused as she opened the Seeker book, shutting it closed before turning to the mage. Isabela and Varric were making no effort in pretending they weren't listening and if Fenris's scowl was any indication, he was listening too. She glanced across the campsite to where Cullen sat, running a whetstone down the edge of his sword, a not-quite forlorn look on his face. He had the look of a man who had lost everything that was important to him and it was taking everything he had to just tread water. It was a feeling that Marissa could relate to.

"For now, yes, we're keeping the Templar. Now before you start arguing with me again, please hear me out.  I can't say that I know him all that well, though we've had cause to work together in the past and before you get your smalls in a bunch it had nothing to do with herding mages. I helped to shut down a lyrium smuggling ring that was bringing tainted lyrium into the Circle."

"That was you? Well, I'll be a nug's uncle. Hawke tried to pin down those bastards for over a month with little to show for it. I tried to find out who our benefactor was but no one was talking." A bemused look came over Varric's face as he laced his fingers together across his stomach.

"It's all in who you know and how you know them; I just happened to know the right people."

"As one who knows people who know people, I can't say that I can argue with that, Thistle."

"Excuse me?"

"I've decided that's the perfect nickname for you, seeing as Little Wolf is outdated. You blend into the background when you want to but have enough pointy things on you to keep unwanted elements away, and are stubborn to the point where it's hard to get rid of you. See, it's perfect!"

"Not to mention that's it's a common plant around Starkhaven," Isabela drawled.

"I will murder all of you in your sleep and make it look like an accident."

"See what I mean? The name's perfect." A wide, unapologetic grin spread across Varric's face and Marissa knew that there was nothing she could do to stop him from calling her that. Taran snickered next to her, hiding a smile behind her hand. Marissa glared at her.

"Watch it, or I'll start calling you Sparky." Taran sobered up quickly and gave Marissa a glare of her own.

"Hey, Sparky's not bad. It's not bad at all. That just might work."

At that the whole group burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh. Marissa had a feeling they'd not be doing much of it in the days to come so she was going to roll with it.

"What's so funny?" Sebastian asked as he joined them, sitting down next to Marissa. Marissa wiped the tears from her eyes as she struggled to control herself but was finding it difficult. The perplexed look on Sebastian's face wasn't helping.

"Meet the new inductees into Varric's nickname victims: Thistle and Sparky. Although he can't really take credit for Sparky, that one was Marissa's idea," Isabela announced, her eyes gleaming with mirth. "Marissa fought having a nickname, even threatened him with certain death but I think we all know that once Varric has decided to give you a nickname, you're pretty much stuck with it."

Sebastian turned to Marissa, a soft look in his eyes. "Thistle?"

Marissa shrugged, not knowing how to respond. She hadn't chosen the nickname after all, it wasn't her fault if he read more into it.

"I believe there was some mention of food, was there not? Shall we see what provisions Aveline gave us?" Fenris broke in. Marissa shot him a grateful look, happy for the change in subject.

As it turned out, Aveline had provided them with a variety of supplies, including food that wasn't some form of hardtack. There was still hardtack to be sure there was also some salted meat and even some vegetables they could use in a stew. She had also included a healthy supply of elfroot potions and lyrium, though where the Captain of the Guard had gotten ahold of them Marissa couldn't guess but she wasn't going to question it. They would need every bit of help they could get if they were to succeed.

They kept the fire low and banked so as to attract as little attention as possible. They had no way of knowing if the Templars were tracking them or how close they were. Marissa knew she wasn't alone with wanting to keep as much distance as possible between them. It was also unanimously agreed upon to stick to bedrolls as opposed to the tents Aveline had also provided. One less thing to worry about if they needed to make a quick getaway. Cassandra announced that she was taking first watch, her tone brokering no argument and Marissa was too tired to argue with the Seeker. Fenris and Cullen volunteered for the remaining watches leaving the rest of them to get as good a night's sleep as possible, something she didn't think was likely. Her body had different ideas however, for as soon as her head hit the bedroll sleep took over. She didn't even feel Sebastian settle in next to her.

XXX

Marissa woke just as dawn broke over the mountains. Easing out of her bedroll she looked around the camp to find that she was the first one awake save Cullen who was idly poking a stick at the banked campfire. An iron pot was suspended over the coals, steam starting to waft out of the spout, a familiar smell permeating the air.

"Is that Ferelden black tea? How in the hell did you manage to get a hold of that? I thought it went extinct with the Blight."

The corner of Cullen's mouth tipped up as he lifted the pot off the fire, pouring the steaming liquid into two cups before handing one to her. Marissa cupped her hands around the cup as she inhaled deeply. The sharp scent flooded her senses, bringing back memories of years long past.

"I brought a stash with me when I came to Kirkwall. Kinloch Hold’s herbalists grew it year-round and Knight-Commander Greagoir was kind enough to resupply me over the years. It made the transition a bit easier to handle. It's always nice to have something from home."

"I suppose it is," she replied softly before taking a tentative sip. Taste and smell were powerful memory triggers and if she closed her eyes she could almost pretend that she was sitting in the library at Highever. Shaking her head, she pushed those memories away, knowing that they served no other purpose than to distract her. Clearing her throat, she held the cup in her hands as she contemplated her options.

"I suppose I should fill you in on what we're trying to do here."

"Sebastian told me some of it, but I am willing to help, willing to be of service in any way I can."

"Of course he did,” she paused. “I wouldn't be so eager to accept if I were you. This thing we're doing, it has no real definition. All I have is a vague prophecy or portent or whatever you want to call it and it has something to do with The Hundred Pillars and the fate of all Thedas."

"That's no small order."

"No, it's not. So it's only fair that you should know what you're getting yourself into. There's no shame in saying no."

Cullen was silent for a moment, staring into his tea as if it could provide the answer to all that ailed the world. When he spoke there was a bleakness to his tone that struck a chord with her.

"I need a purpose, Marissa. I need to do something of value and if this is the course that the Maker sets before me, I will take it gladly."

"That's so typical of you shem. Willing to throw your lives away to some absent god that doesn't give two shits whether you live or die."

"Taran--," Marissa started before the elf gave her a sharp look. Taran matched her glare before continuing.

"No, I get it. I really do. You want something to believe in, want it so hard that you'll march blindly ahead and any who don't step in line have an Exalted March declared upon them. You believe that your Maker is infallible and can do no wrong. That's a load of horseshit if you ask me. The elvhen have our gods as well and they're just as absent as your Maker, but it was through their own foolishness. We Dalish take our lessons from them and learn from their mistakes, or try to anyway. Can you say the same?"

Marissa wanted to bang her head against something. This was no time to get into a religious debate. There was too much to do for that kind of distraction.

"I think you've made your point, Taran. Religious differences aside, we need all the help we can get."

"We don't need help from someone who helped slaughter my clan and drag me to the Circle in Kirkwall," Taran snapped, anger vibrating through her entire body. The rest of the camp was awake by now, woken from their slumber by one seriously pissed-off elf.

"This, this _shem_ and his companions entered our camp with the sole intent of bringing a mage to heel. Never mind that the Templars have no jurisdiction over the Dalish. My clan had already been decimated by illness and they slaughtered those who survived to get to me. And this one stood by and did nothing to stop them."

Marissa turned back to Cullen. Dread filled her stomach as she saw the shame on the man's face.

"Is this true?" she asked softly.

Cullen silently bowed his head, his eyes downcast.

"Answer the question. Is this true?" Cassandra demanded, her voice as hard as iron.

"Yes, Seeker, it is. I tried to stop them, I did, and I nearly was arrested for doing so. The Knight-Commander... she, by this time the red lyrium had taken full hold on her. She threatened to take away my commission and let me die of lyrium withdrawal if I didn't let it go. So I let it go." Cullen raised his head, looking beseechingly at Taran. "I know it doesn't mean much, but I am sorry for what happened. I should have done more to stop it."

"Yes, you should have. My people died and I was thrown in the Gallows. And that doesn't even _begin_ to describe the treatment mages received there. Is it any wonder that the mages are rebelling with such treatment as that?"

"The abuses mages suffered in the Gallows are well documented. Knight-Commander Meredith should not have been allowed to go as far as she did."

"You'll get no argument from anyone here, Seeker. Hawke tried for years to ease the tensions between mages and Templars but it's hard to help a people who don't think they need helping, who blatantly defy any who try to help and condemn those that do. Maker knows we had more than one Templar sword pointed at our collective throats," Varric said ruefully. "Not that we had any better luck with the mages. We did the best we could. I just wish it had been enough."

Silence fell on the group at that with each person keeping their thoughts to themselves.

"I don't expect your forgiveness for what happened to your clan and to you Taran, some things are unforgivable, but please know that I am sincere in my regret. I should have tried harder to stop it."

Taran stared stonily down at him. Marissa watched as the mage clenched her fists, her knuckles blanching white. For the sake of the group she hoped that Taran didn't strike out at Cullen, she prayed that she wouldn't, but Marissa was in no place to cast stones in regards to taking revenge on those who had wronged her.

"You're right, some things are unforgivable. Just stay out of my way," she snapped before turning on her heel and storming off. Marissa was of half a mind to go after her but decided that letting her be for a while might be better. Cullen kept his head bowed, the man's shame clearly written all over his face. Marissa watched as Cassandra glared down at the Templar, clearly trying to decide if she should meet out some type of punishment. If the Seeker had asked her, Marissa would have told her that Cullen was punishing himself enough without outside help.  

"Well, now that we got the drama portion of our morning out of the way, where do we go from here? No way to go but north really," Varric stated.

"Yes, through Wildervale and then onto Tantervale. That seems to be the most direct route to The Hundred Pillars, though we may want to avoid any villages and cities as much as possible, just to be on the safe side. We don't know if the Templars in Kirkwall sent messages to outlying areas or not," Marissa paused. "Unless anyone else has a better idea."

"No, staying away from the cities is probably wise. It'll make getting provisions a little tougher but I'd rather go a little hungry than end up on the wrong end of a Templar sword. Or a mercenary's. Plenty out here that would be willing to run us all through for coin," Varric said wryly. "Here's hoping that the mess we left behind us caused enough chaos to prevent them from sending out carrier pigeons."

"But what _do_ we do once we get there? Maker's balls, we don't even know where to go. I don't like going in blind."

"Neither do I, Isabela but what else can we do? It'll take probably two days to get to Tantervale if we don't run into any issues, I'm hoping I'll have some answers by then."

"See that you do,” Cassandra said. “There is too much at risk for us to make mistakes. The people of Thedas can't afford that."

"You know, I'm getting a--."

"We're all aware of what at stake, Cassandra, trust me. I have faith that Marissa will find us the answers we need. So should you." Sebastian's voice was quiet but steady, as was the hand on Marissa's shoulder. Marissa took a deep breath, trying to smooth out the temper that had spiked at the Seeker's words. The woman rubbed her the wrong way and it could come to blows if a compromise couldn't be worked out. The woman was clearly used to being in charge and was chafing at the fact that she had to follow someone else’s lead.

The Seeker snorted before walking away, stalking over to her bedroll and began packing everything up. _Great_ , Marissa thought, _is everyone going to be in a pissy mood this morning_?

"You know, I don't need you to fight my battles for me, Sebastian."

"No, but it can't hurt to have some assistance once in a while, can it?" He brushed a lock of hair back, tucking it behind her ear and trailed the tips of his fingers down the shell of her ear. A slight shiver ran through her body at his touch. Maker, would he always be able to elicit this reaction from her? She certainly hoped so.

But now was not the time.

"I suppose not," she said softly. "But, we need to get going."

" _Mo ghrá_ , as lovely as you may think Ferelden black tea is, you need more in your stomach than that. We all do. Porridge will do quite nicely I think. It's quick and filling."

"And just what is wrong with Ferelden black tea? That coffee drink you Free Marchers are so fond of tastes like burnt tree bark.”

“It’s an acquired taste, I’ll grant you that.”

“If you say so,” she said. “Fine, if you want to play camp cook I take no issue with that."

"And we are all grateful that you are willing to relinquish any and all food duties to someone who knows what they're doing, Marissa. I don't think anyone here wants to risk food poisoning."

"That was one time, Isabela and it's not my fault those eggs were bad. I was sold faulty merchandise."

Isabela rolled her eyes. "You keep telling yourself that, sweet thing."

True to his word, breakfast was quick and filling and they were on their way within half an hour and Marissa found herself back on the horse, her hands lightly resting on his belt.

"This can't be good for the horse to carry both of us," Marissa stated after they had been on the road for about an hour.

"Oh, she's a strong and sturdy one, more than capable."

"But surely she'll tire more easily than the others, even Varric's pony."

"Well, racing over field for long periods of time will tire out any horse but I don't expect us to be galloping the whole way to The Hundred Pillars."

"I hope not, I just don't want to risk any delays. I'm still getting death glares from the Seeker over the fact that I don't really know what I'm doing."

“She’ll settle down, or she won’t. There’s not much we can do about that.”

Several minutes passed by before Marissa spoke again. “Are you absolutely certain this horse will last?”

"Marissa, I would get you your own horse and teach you how to ride if I could, but as you say, we don't have the time. After all this is over I promise you I will teach you to ride."

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that they may not survive this journey but she knew better than to say it aloud. He didn't say it, but she knew that Sebastian was testy where their future was concerned. The future was a murky thing, made more so because their path was obscured by a vague prophecy with nothing else to back it up. She still hadn't found anything in either of the books that would point them in the right direction. And if by some miracle they _did_ find what the prophecy was referring to, what was there to say that it would be of any benefit to Thedas?

Not for the first time she wondered if she was on a fool’s mission.

A future with Sebastian. She had trouble wrapping her head around that. What exactly would it mean? What would it look like? No matter what he said about being unworthy, he was still the rightful heir to Starkhaven. If he did decide to retake the throne and was successful, where did that leave her? Her thoughts raced through a myriad of different scenarios, none of them ending well. No. It was better to focus on more short term goals, even if those goals were as unclear as any future she might have with Sebastian. At least they, this quest they were on, was closer to what she was used to. Get in, get out, and try not to die. It was a philosophy she had lived with for a long time and she didn't really see any reason to change that.


End file.
